I Need my Personal Space
by Aislin of the Shadows
Summary: Sequel to The Hate of His Life. Erik finally begins his dreaded two weeks with the winner of a phangirl dating contest. A cabana in Hawaii, moving into the Opera, lessons with the Angel...What new surprises lie in store? Not OW
1. Day 1, Friday

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or any affiliated…things. I also don't own any other books/shows/movies/plays I might mention. If I told you what they were, it would spoil random fandom allusions. Just know that I don't own them. Once I've made my fortune, I'll have to make a point to buy them.

To all my old and beloved readers and what new ones I might have – welcome to the long awaited sequel to _The Hate of His Life_! I highly recommend you read that phic before this one, if you have not yet done so. I am happy to present this story of mine, which I only hope will he half as popular as its prequel. We reunite ourselves with Erik and his newfound student Hana on their trial relationship period. Let me say that I will make less appearances in this story, and there will be strictly _no_ cameos. Sorry. Enjoy!

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"So, Erik, how does it feel?" Aislin leaned smugly back in her seat in the luxury airplane as they flew over the Pacific Ocean. It was Friday, the first day of Erik's trip to Hawaii with Hana. Aislin was somehow extremely happy that she had managed to happily pair Erik with someone other than Christine.

"How does what feel?" Erik asked casually. They had a private jet for just the three of them. Aislin was reclining in her seat by the window, her glass of root beer in a cupholder beside her and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ sitting unfinished next to it. Hana was fast asleep across three seats with the armrests up, turning them into one long couch. Erik was sitting at the rectangular table in the center of the cabin, reading a novel recommended to him by Aislin. He found the antics of Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu extremely interesting, was already half done, and wasn't willing to stop reading.

"You know exactly what I mean," pressed Aislin. "You have a new girl. If not a lover, at least a student. What's it like knowing you're going to be spending major time with her?"

"Am I being recorded?" inquired Erik suspiciously. (Fache had just discovered the recording equipment in Teabing's garage, and Erik loved a conspiracy as much as the next guy.) "Is this some kind of contest interview?"

"No," replied Aislin, sounding a little hurt. "I was just wondering. You've been kind of quiet during the flight, I thought you might be sulking or something."

"_Da Vinci Code_?" Erik reminded her, waving the book in front of her face. "I have not been sulking, merely reading." And he resumed.

Aislin shrugged and fished out her trusty CD player, only to find that her short conversation had pulled Erik into the mood to talk.

"Why are you coming along with us?" he asked her, his book now firmly closed with a black bookmark. "I thought it was 'send us off to Hawaii and say goodbye.'"

Aislin shook her head. "Nope. I'm the contest coordinator, so I go where you go. But don't worry. The only times you'll see me when we get to Hawaii are…well, strictly speaking, I plan to try and stay out of your way, in order to give you and Hana the right…atmosphere. If you happen to run into me, so what? You aren't actually _expected _to see me again until Monday, when we fly back. Then in Paris, I disappear except for a few random visits I might pay."

Erik nodded. Aislin pressed a button on her CD player to get Music of the Night to play, andshe snuggled into her seat for some sleep. "The flight is far from over, you might want to relax," she advised him. He nodded again absently, and opened _The Da Vinci Code_ again.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In several more hours, they'd made it to Hawaii. Hana clung to Erik's arm and her carryon bag excitedly as they left the plane. The airport was bustling with activity, and Erik was pleased to see no waiting fangirls in the terminal.

"Come on, we have a waiting taxi out front," said Aislin, dragging Erik forward by his free hand."

"What about the luggage we checked?" said Hana nervously.

"I didn't send two weeks worth of luggage to a place we'll only be in for two days. Our bags went to the Opera. Well," she sniffed, "_yours_ went to the Opera, mine went to a hotel down the street."

Out in front of the hotel, a dark-skinned native who nevertheless spoke English (A/N: Maybe they all do…they probably all do…hey, I've never been there) drove them to a large hotel near the coast…and past the hotel.

"Where are we going?" wondered Erik aloud, watching as the tall white building disappeared behind them. Aislin didn't answer, but smiled.

The taxi drove up to a little patch of pavement that didn't lead anywhere. Aislin paid the driver and got out, followed by Erik, Hana, and three large bags.

"Follow me," she ordered, and she traipsed out into the sand. Hana followed obligingly, but Erik was rather objecting. However, they would soon leave him behind, so he hurried after them.

Right away, Erik was sorry that the only things he ever wore were black suits and full black capes. Hawaii was HOT. And the sunlight seemed inevitably drawn to his dark clothes, and through to his skin, normally ice cold, now receiving an odd cold/hot sensation. More hot than cold though – not pleasant at all. After walking only a few yards down the coast, he broke into a sweat and his black shoes filled with sand.

"Oh, this is going to be great fun," he thought.

At long last he caught up with the two girls. They were standing in front of a picturesque little cabana by the coast. It looked quaint, with only three rooms inside, a roof of palm leaves, and a floor of only woven mats over sand. There were palm trees all behind it, with a hammock strung securely between two, and nothing but beach and ocean in front of it. It looked like a postcard.

Closer inspection of the interior revealed a bathroom with a working shower, sink, and toilet, and a kitchen with a modern, if not old, stove and small refrigerator, so it wasn't entirely primitive. Although for the life of him, Erik couldn't figure out where the toilet pipes would lead in an isolated place like this. He decided he didn't want to know, and after exploring the cabana with Hana and claiming cots (he gladly took the one farthest from the window), they left their luggage inside and rejoined Aislin outside.

The beach looked beautiful, the sun only just sinking below the horizon over the blue water.

"I leave you two here for whatever you might wish to do," recited Aislin. "I'll be in a hotel down that way -" she pointed in the direction they'd come, "and if you need anything, you have but to come into town. I will be here to pick you up and take you both to Paris on Monday, so be ready then." She waved happily. "Enjoy your stay!"

And she walked off into the distance, slipping off her sandals and kicking up sand with her bare feet.

Erik automatically felt uncomfortable. Here was an instance where he'd be with a phangirl, and Aislin wouldn't be coming back to rescue him in a few hours.

He stopped. _Now he needed Aislin to rescue him from phangirls?_

Of course not! He was the Phantom of the Opera! He could handle this! After all, he chose this girl! There was absolutely no problem, things would go fine.

He turned to Hana. She grinned. "Want to go for a late night swim?" she asked with a wink.

Erik moaned, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He went back into the cabana to make sure only one person could fit into his cot.

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Rather short, I know, but I hope to make them better as I write them. I'm excited! I finally get to write this! I want to thank everyone who came back, and ask you to exhibit the same loyalty I know so well and review!


	2. Day 2, Saturday

Sorry I haven't updated in forever. I have a lot less time than usual.

CloudxInxCrimson: Ooh…I'm going to make them go to McDonald's and get all sorts of pineapple crap! Not that pineapples are crap. They're one if my favorite fruits. It just sounds funny.

IcySunset: Oh, you'll love it. I saw it three years ago, and I can still remember exactly how it looked as if it was yesterday. It made such an impression on me.

MortRouge: I'm so glad you're happy. But be sure you e-mail me so I can worm as much information about you out as possible…without seeming like an Internet pervert. Which I'm not. But if I don't get the information you want me to have, I'm going to take your character and run with it, and make her do things you might not normally do. Fear my mystical authoress powers!

Songwind: I don't know, I might use it. But this first part is just vacation, Erik isn't going to work any music lessons in until the Paris part of the story.

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Erik awoke the hard way the next morning. He discovered that when the sun reached a certain point in the sky, it shone through an open patch in the ceiling directly onto his face. The glaring light was enough to wake him up. He squinted and fell out of his cot, reminding himself to move it over a foot or so, or to at least fix the roof.

Here's the layout of the little cabana, for future reference. When you walk in the front door, there's another door immediately across from you. That door leads to the kitchen. Erik's cot is against the wall on the left side of this door, as you look at it. The window is on the left side of the front door, and Hana's cot is right under it. The bathroom is through another door to the left of the main room. I'm not quite sure why nothing is on the right of anything. But I hope you can now picture what the place looks like.

Hana was still asleep when he got up, snoring contentedly in her cot, still in shadow. Erik went into the bathroom.

It may have had all the things a bathroom should have, but it wasn't very comfortable. The floor was hard cement, and the only thing decorative about the fixtures was that they were green. The toilet, sink, and shower were not at all attractively designed – but then, they weren't there to enjoy the bathroom. Erik was just thankful they didn't have an outhouse or some other nightmare.

After a shower and a change he looked more like the phantom he was. He decided to leave off his cape and fedora – he was going to be hot as it is.

Hana was awake now, and had already begun making breakfast. Erik had never had anyone cook for him before, and it was a lovely sensation to walk out of the bathroom to the smell of bacon sizzling.

"The fridge was already stocked with all the stuff we would need. At least most of it," Hana said to him as he took a seat at the round table in the middle of the small kitchen. Technically he took a cushion – the table was low and you were meant to sit on the floor. "There's no real junk food. We have bread and cereal and eggs and milk and all that generic crap, but no chips or cookies or sodas. We'll have to buy them."

"I guess that's an attempt at getting us to bond," commented Erik, who at this moment was wishing he had a chair with a back to recline in.

Hana served him slightly burnt bacon with scrambled eggs. "Thank you," he said, as she set the plate down.

"You're cooking dinner," she said happily. "And we can take turns washing dishes." As Erik had always taken care of these things himself he was happy to agree. She was a companion, not a maid. "I didn't know what kind of egg you liked, so I scrambled them." Actually, Erik preferred over easy, but didn't protest.

The kitchen was much nicer than the bathroom. The fridge and stove (with an oven underneath and a microwave above) were on the right of the room, with some shelves and cabinets for dishes and other foods on the left. The round table in the middle was varnished cedar, as were the cabinets, and had a single red rose in a narrow vase in the center. The cushions were red velvet on the side you sat on, but clear plastic on the bottom, to protect against any sand that might come through the mats. Hana picked up the rose.

"I think it came from a bush in the back. You know, we have a small backyard. A really big one if you count the palm trees as in the yard. And the hammock is yours."

"How can you tell?"

Hana shrugged. "Go see for yourself."

Erik pushed away his empty plate and went outside, while Hana checked out the main room. It can't be called anything else, as it was a combination of living room and bedroom. He went through the front door and around the house, as there was no back door.

The hammock was black, and there was a small, white stone table set into the sand beside it. A folded sealed letter lay on the table. He opened it.

_Erik,_

_Hana isn't allowed back here when you're here. If you really need to get away, this hammock is yours to enjoy. Someone will always be here to serve you, and you can find something you may enjoy in the trunk of the tree at the foot of the hammock. But we can't have you totally isolated. Each day you are only allowed three hours here. Spend them wisely._

_Aislin_

Upon examining the tree, Erik found it to be fake, and discovered a trapdoor hidden behind it. In the trunk were assorted horror books and classical and opera CDs that he knew he would enjoy, along with a CD player with headphones. There was something else, farther down in the hidden compartment. It was bigger than the other things. When he finally pulled it out, he realized that it was his violin case. Several sheets of lined music paper were tucked into the case. He smiled and put everything away for later use.

Meanwhile, Hana let out a happy shriek from the main room. He went back inside. She was exploring a wooden cabinet on the right side of the room. "We have a CD player," she told him. "Along with soundtracks to all the best musicals and some of the better singers." She fingered the Phantom soundtrack, but then changed her mind. "Want to go shopping?"

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And so they headed out to the main part of the city. Erik hadn't thought he'd see it again so soon. But Hana wanted to load up on necessary junk food. And as much as Erik hated to admit it, he needed a new wardrobe for the weather.

He endured an hour-long expedition through the grocery store, watching Hana fill a cart with chips, cookies, sodas, ice cream, candies, and every imaginable unhealthy food. Erik even got himself a bottle of wine (which he planned to keep out of Hana's reach) and some Gummi Bears, which he snuck secretly into the basket. He was very fond of them, and wasn't about to let Hana know that. Luckily, at the register, they were lost in the jumble of food and she didn't notice. She showed the man behind the counter a card, and, somewhat sullenly, he let them pass without paying.

"What did you show him?" asked Erik curiously.

Hana held up a white card, like an ID. "Everything is paid for by the contest, and this means we don't have to pay people. I found it in the kitchen. We're not supposed to abuse it, so we're probably never coming back to this store to use it." She smiled, and tucked it safely into her pocket. "Now, don't you need clothes?"

He was not looking forward to this, but it was inevitable. At the department store they checked out, Erik flat-out refused to wear shorts of any kind, she Hana got him two pairs of the lightest colored jeans they could find. Erik had never had more trouble trying to find clothes that fit him. The jeans were either too tight or too low or too long…something was wrong with all of them. Hana was pushing for the low ones, but he settled on the ones that were an inch or two too long – he figured he could just roll them up.

At another store, Hana told him that he'd be miserable with long-sleeved shirts, and told him that there was no way around T-shirts. Refusing to buy the brilliantly colored ones Hana was holding up, Erik decided on three plain white ones – the nest best thing if he couldn't wear black. He got a gray one too, and that was as wide as his variety got. Desperate to put some color on him, Hana persuaded him to buy a red shirt as well, which he did seem to like.

Hana looked for shoes for him too, finding a white pair of tennis shoes that she made him buy. She also forced him into some red flip-flops for the beach. Erik's face turned red to match when she gave them to him, but she didn't let up, and he was obliged to buy them. She explored hats for a while, but Erik refused to wear any hat other than his fedora, and she gave up on it.

"Don't you at least want some beach supplies?" she asked, as he was ready to head back to their cabana with their parcels. So they got sunscreen and sandcastle supplies. Each of them got a new pair of sunglasses – the one dark thing Erik had bought yet. By now it was getting late, and Erik suggested they pick something up to eat back at the cabana. Hana agreed.

Carrying their bags – which totaled to seven large packages – they walked into a nearby McDonald's. Erik left Hana at a table with the bags and borrowed the contest card to order food.

"Hi, can I get a Bic Mac and…" Erik did not normally eat fast food – it was not good for his skeletal frame.

"Do you want pineapple with that?" asked the girl behind the counter seriously.

"What? Do I want pineapple with my hamburger?" Erik stared at her. "That makes no sense at all. Um, give me a salad too."

"Pineapple with your salad?"

"NO, thank you." Why the heck did he want pineapple with a salad? "And a large fry."

"Do you ?"

"NO! No pineapple!" He grabbed the bag of food when it came, flashed the card, and left hurriedly.

They walked to their little house as the sun was just deciding whether it wanted to set or not. Hana set the food out on the table as Erik deposited his clothes on his bed and began putting the food away.

"Hey Erik," said Hana suddenly. "Why did you get this?"

Erik groaned. Out of the McDonald's bag, Hana had pulled a large container of sliced pineapple.

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Yay! I liked this chapter – it was fun to wrote. And next time – dun dun DUN! Erik dons his new clothes! Review!


	3. Day 3, Sunday

I'm really sorry that I hardly update. I promise I'll try to do it more. But I really only have weekends to work on.

Songwind: No, he doesn't have his Red Death mask. Heaven forbid he wear it on the beach and scare some other unsuspecting child. Each chappie is one day, and since this trip (Hawaii and Paris) is two weeks, it'll be fourteen chapters total. Maybe one more if I can think of something for it.

Goddess of the Neon Rose: …How can you be allergic to raw tomato? If you cook it, are you no longer allergic? O.o

Javert's Suicide: Hi Rio. Love the name. He doesn't really have anything against it, they were just shoving it on him.

I would also like to let you all know that the stories by Willow Rose that I have been posting under my name are now going to be moved to another account - Willow Rose 3.

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Erik awakened the next morning to the sound of his own overture blaring through the cabana.

"Hi Erik!" called Hana happily from the vicinity of the stereo. "It's your turn to cook breakfast today. Get dressed and get cooking." She moved happily to the beat of the music.

Erik managed to get out of bed without falling. The organ of the overture had sufficiently wakened him up…if that's correct grammar. He made his way to the bathroom, reluctantly taking his jeans and a white T-shirt with him.

"Don't forget your swimsuit!" Hana reminded him. "We're going to the beach today!"

He picked up the swimsuit as well, and went to take his shower.

Then he had second thoughts. What had he done during the night to merit a shower? Did sleeping make him dirty? And he was going swimming anyway…or maybe just sunbathing, if he had anything to say about it. Forget the shower. He decided to just change into his clothes.

Not comfortable with the swim trunks alone, he put them on first and managed to fit his jeans on over them. Then he added the shirt, and resigned, wore the flip-flops. They felt comfortable…until he started walking. And discovered how the got their name.

Not daring to lose the mask, he left it on. So attired, he returned to the main room.

"Sexy!" screamed Hana, promptly glomping him. She stood back to get the full effect.

Erik's arms were delightfully muscled (but still thin) from the constant poling across the underground lake. Though he was very pale, they looked great with the short sleeves. He was forced to turn up the bottom of his jeans twice to keep the legs from dragging, but it showed his feet. Depending on one's personality, this could be quite attractive. The shirt also accentuated his narrow chest. Skeletal or not, Erik was very strong and well built. It was the full dress clothes that had always hidden it.

Erik edged around Hana, headed for the kitchen, and tripped on his shoes. Okay, so a lot of the Opera Ghost grace and flair was lost in twenty-first century casual, but he was still Erik.

In half an hour, he had a plate of pancakes topped with strawberries set on the table.

"Wow, Erik, this looks great!" exclaimed Hana. Erik proudly sat down across from her.

They quickly finished breakfast, left the dishes in the sink, and Hana ran into the main room to get their things ready. She put all the beach supplies into one of the big paper bags they'd brought home yesterday. She was already in her swimsuit, a pair of jean shorts on over it, and, pulling Erik by the arm, hurried out the door.

"It's not as if the house isn't thirty feet from the ocean," muttered Erik, as he headed back to retrieve one of his flip-flops, from where the sand had devoured it.

The day passed quickly. Hana had him out there until lunchtime. It was a secluded part of the beach, and no tourists flooded it. They had the seaside all to themselves.

At first, Erik remained in the shade of a palm tree, wearing lots of sunscreen to protect his pale skin and finishing off the last few pages of _The DaVinci Code_, relaxing while Hana splashed around in the waves. It wasn't until Hana came and dumped a bucket of water on him that he chased her into the ocean for watery revenge.

Well, she had achieved her goal. He was now standing in the middle of the ocean, fully clothed, in sopping jeans and shirt. One solitary abandoned flip-flop was slowly floating out to sea. Hana rescued it, as Erik swam back to shore to strip off his wet clothes, whether he wanted to or not.

"Thanks for that," he said sullenly, returning to the water in only his swim trunks.

Hana grinned and tossed his flip-flop onto the sand with its partner. She then proceeded to begin a game of two-player Marco Polo. That didn't last long, as they only had two people to work with. So they raced each other into the waves over and over again, bodysurfing back to shore. It took Erik a while to get accustomed to the waves – there were none in his lake. But he got the hang of it eventually.

By then, the sun was high in the sky. They swam back to the beach for lunch, and Erik reapplied his sunscreen. He spread out beach towels on the sand while Hana went back to the cabana for food. She came back with another bag with sodas, chips, sandwiches, and a large package of cookies.

"Lunchtime!" she sang. And she placed a small radio found accompanying the stereo beside the towels, playing the beginning of the POTO soundtrack. She skipped the first track though.

"No one wants to listen to the stupid auctioneer," she scoffed. "Not when the rest of it is so good."

She handed him a sandwich, and pulled open the bag of cheese Doritoes. Erik peeked into his sandwich.

Tuna. Lovely. "Are all the sandwiches tuna?" he asked, trying not to sound disgusted. But Erik wasn't much of a seafood person.

"Oh, no. Sorry," said Hana. "But I still don't know what you like to eat, so I made a bunch of different ones."

"Do you have anything with beef?" Erik rarely ate sandwiches, but he did rather like a roast beef one he'd made in a rush one day while late to one of Christine's lessons.

"Er…there's ham and cheese."

"That will be fine," said Erik, trading in his sandwich and taking a handful of Doritoes. They got stuck in his teeth, but they were strangely addictive.

"Oreo?" asked Hana, offering him the package of cookies.

"No thanks," refused Erik. "I don't like cookies." He'd already told some people this, but Hana still didn't know.

"How can you not like cookies!" she gasped. "And Oreos at that! I mean, they're America's favorite cookie! The bag says so!"

"Yes, but technically I'm from France," reminded Erik, pushing away the cookies Hana continued to force on him.

"Which reminds me," Hana began thoughtfully. "When do we leave for Paris?"

"Aislin said she'd come get us Monday, and that's tomorrow."

"Oh, I hope she comes late," said Hana, finishing up her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and taking a handful of Oreos. "We've hardly had any time on the beach. We'll have to be sure to fit in lots of time tomorrow."

After lunch the day went slowly. They spent two hours building a huge, three-story sandcastle, complete with towers, arches, seashell ornaments, and a driftwood Apollo on the roof. Erik even dug out a cellar underneath it and put in a lake by filling a large shell with water and embedding it in the sand. Hana ran back to the cabana for a camera, while Erik finished landscaping the 'front yard.' He wanted it to look perfect, as the moat they had attempted to install refused to stay full of water.

They swam leisurely as the sun went down – until Hana dared to splash Erik.

Spluttering and spitting out salty water, Erik floundered for a moment, then gave chase. Hana dashed through the water, onto the beach, and into the cabana, leaving Erik to clean up the beach supplies. She laughed loudly from the cabana.

Erik sighed, and collected their belongings. Throwing the sandy things into the bag, he walked barefoot back to the cabana.

There was something to this casual attire thing.

Hana already occupied the shower, and he felt rather too sandy to be inside, so he headed back out, depositing the bag on the floor.

Though it really hadn't been a stressful day, he decided to spend some time in his Hana-free hammock zone. After all, it was all his, and he was leaving tomorrow. Might as well get some use out of it.

He settled down into the hammock, taking his violin with him. He played a few bars of Mozart, then fell into a melody of his own. Nothing special, he didn't really know where he was going with it yet.

"I could use a drink," he murmured to himself. Then he thought of what Aislin's note had said. _Someone will always be here to serve you…_ He wondered what it meant.

"Erm…hello?" he called.

The leaves beside the hammock rustled, and a girl with a white towel over her arm and a tray came out.

"Oh, no, not you…"

"Hi Erik!" she said happily. "I got a part time job! Now I get to be a worker at the Opera. Aislin suggested I come here first, though. Only a few days, she says. But I think it's worth it. Oh, can I get you anything?"

Erik stared at her. He couldn't believe Aislin would hire a phangirl to serve him. And Hilary at that!

"Uh, yes," he said. "Wine, if you please."

"Okey-dokey!" She skipped off, returning with a glass of wine, which she set on the table. "Call if you want anything else!"

Erik sighed. Sipping his wine, he returned to his tunings. In twenty minutes, he'd found a melody that pleased him. Before he could forget it, he pulled out one of the lined sheets and wrote it down. Sadly, inspiration failed him after twelve measures. He decided he'd get back to it later. Brushing sand off the violin case, he put it and the unfinished music back inside.

Eyeing the trees where he knew Hilary lingered, he went back inside.

He slept that night with dreams of his precious cellar where he would soon return.

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I know it wasn't all that funny, but I hope it'll get better. One element of the story won't appear until we're back at the Opera, and I can't wait to use it. It's a person, you'll all see in two chappies. Oh – Hilary, I hope you're okay with me using you. Review!


	4. Day 4, Monday

Hi again! Again, if you're wondering, all Willow Rose's phics have been moved to their own account – Willow Rose 3. Yes with spaces.

ElfLover: Heh, nope. Neither of the two. You'll see soon enough. Although, yes, I do plan to put more of Raoul and Christine in it later.

Willow Rose: You did nothing, my friend. I just realized too late that I have to wait three days after making the account to upload anything – I deleted the phics then had to wait three days to put them back. Yes, I made it so that the email isn't shown, but it's my email anyway – anything that FFdotnet sends will come to me.

Songwind: Yeah, it was kind of a random impulse, putting her in. And I realized that in the first chapter, I said that there would be strictly no cameos. So I'm revising that. Strictly no cameos unless I decide to put you in on my own. No requests. Yeah…life sure does get in the way. But VACATION!

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Erik would have slept late the next morning – having successfully moved his cot away from the irritating sunlight – but Hana shook him awake before the sun even had a chance to try its hand…erm…rays.

"We're leaving today – we have to do as much fun stuff as possible." She was already in her swimsuit, and the sky was still purple. Erik glanced blearily out the window.

"It seems to be sometime around five in the morning," he said.

"You like the darkness, right?" Hana pulled the blanket off him.

"When I said darkness, I meant night, not dawn," muttered Erik, resigned to waking up. He'd sleep on the plane to Paris. _Lord knows the flight will take long enough_, he thought.

Erik once again decided against a shower. He was beginning to enjoy that. He never knew why he showered in the morning anyway. It wasn't as if he was dirty. So he donned his red shirt and a new pair of jeans, this time deciding to wear his new tennis shoes. He didn't plan to swim today, maybe just lie in the sand.

When he was dressed, he headed into the kitchen, catching his reflection in the shiny microwave. He wondered if red was really his color.

Hana presented him with a waffle, quickly cooked, and wrapped in a napkin with no syrup. "Take it with you," she ordered, ready to go outside.

"You need to learn right now," Erik said sternly in his Phantom voice, "that you will not be able to order me around as you have been doing so far. I will not follow your every command."

Hana blinked. "Okay." She grabbed her bag and ran out.

Erik blinked too.

He headed outside to retrieve his violin from the hollow tree in the back. Laying a towel out on the sand, he lay in the mounting light of the sunrise and pulled out his unfinished composition. He grabbed for the paper as Hana ran by, nearly taking it with her in her slipstream.

There was a loud splash, and Erik was glad that he and his papers and violin were far from the water's edge.

"Why do you insist on spending so much time in the water?" he called out to Hana, as she swam furiously.

"I don't get to come to Hawaii every day," she answered. "I want to enjoy it."

Erik turned back to his violin, playing back the few measures he'd written last night to refresh his memory. Not another opera, of course, but an adequate song in itself. He fiddled with the chords and found one he liked. It led to a full page of music being added to the original lines. The sun was completely up by the time he'd finished writing it all down. He played it once more to test it out.

Hana applauded, and came running up to see, trailing water behind her. "Pretty," she commented with a smile. Then she shivered. "The water's cold."

"Maybe if you hadn't gone in so early," said Erik smoothly, replacing his violin in its case to protect it from the water dripping off Hana.

She wrapped a towel around herself, looking around the beach. "Our sandcastle got washed away in the tide," she said sadly, noticing the mushy mound of sand where their creation had been. She walked over to it and pulled out the large shell that had held the built-in underground lake. Washing it off in the waves, she stored it in her bag. "I think I'll keep it for a souvenir."

The sun was now higher in the sky, probably somewhere around eight or nine o'clock territory. Erik lay in the sun on his towel, joined shortly by Hana. They both pulled out books and lay relaxing for a few hours.

Erik was aware of the glare of the sun suddenly diminishing. He opened his eyes, having laid the book aside some time ago. Long hair hung in his face, the head attached blocking the sunlight.

"Hi," said Aislin, leaning over him and waving. "Hope you two are packed, because it's time to go."

"Oh, but we're having fun!" exclaimed Hana, jumping up and spraying Erik with sand.

"But don't you want to get to Paris?" asked Aislin.

Hana paused, then dashed off to the little cabana. "I'll pack my stuff now!"

Aislin pulled Erik up out of the sand. "Ready to go home?"

"The cellar never sounded more inviting," he replied with a small smile. Aislin looked him up and down.

"You've been outside in the hot sun a lot. You…didn't take a shower today, did you?"

Erik frowned. "Does it show that much?"

Aislin smiled slyly. "I know there's no deodorant in your time, but nowdays…" And he glared at her, heading off to pack his own things. "It causes cancer anyway!" she called after him.

Although he didn't have many, it was hard getting all his new clothes to fit in with the old ones. He managed it at last. He washed his face (thouroughly) and combed the sand out of his hair, then rejoined Hana and Aislin on the beach. Hana was carrying twice as much luggage as she'd come in with.

"What do you have now that you didn't have before?" Erik asked curiously.

"It seemed such a waste to let all that food we bought go to waste," she said sheepishly. "And I'm sure you don't have ice cream in your house, so I'm taking my junk food fixes with me."

Erik didn't mention the gallon of rocky road he had waiting in his icebox – probably past its expiration date now.

"I've got all the stuff that was in the tree out back," Aislin told Erik, holding up a small black suitcase, "and I packed the hammock too, in case you liked it and wanted to set it up at home. Shall we go then?"

Erik nodded, picking up his violin case from the sandy beach towel. Aislin threw all the sandy beach supplies into Hana's bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed off down the beach.

Erik had to admit, it was a lot easier walking through sand in these tennis shoes.

But then, there wasn't a lot of sand at the Opera House.

Ah…the Opera House. He couldn't wait to get back. Aislin led them back into a taxi, back to the airport, and into another plane.

"Settle in, you two, we've got a long flight ahead of us," Aislin told them.

Erik leaned back in his chair to catch up on the sleep he'd been deprived of that night, anticipating his beloved Opera House.

But what might be waiting for him when he returned?

……………………………………………..

…Not much will be waiting, really. I just like ominous endings. Review!


	5. Day 5, Tuesday

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! They return…to the Opera House!

Willow Rose 3: No problem. Glad you're happy with it.

Songwind: I know, right? It's like suitcases are built to shrink at the end of the vacation.

CloudxInxCrimson: I think if him as smelling rather earthy, with an overlying scent of cedar, and a slight hint of ink. (Heh…ink…) Earth from the cellars, ink from the time spent composing…I'm not sure where the cedar came from. But that's the scent I picture. Yay for the stern Phantom voice! (And my friend Lessa loved your phic. We talked about ink for ten minutes.)

ElfLover: Haha! Nope, not Hilary. You'll see in this chapter. Oh…many, many somethings…you have no idea…

Goddess of the Neon Rose: I learned that from my science teacher. There's something in it that if too much of it gets into your skin, you get cancer. Or something.

………………………………………….

The taxi pulled up in front of a large, ornate building shining in the sunlight. Erik, Aislin, and Hana climbed out, pulling their luggage with them. _"Merci,"_ said Aislin, paying the driver. He drove off, and they all stood looking up at the Opera Garnier.

Erik sighed.

"Hooray for the ten or so words I know in French," muttered Aislin. "Let's go in – I'll help you to get settled."

"That won't be necessary," said Erik, slinging his case over his shoulder (A/N: I forgot in the beginning of this story that in the first story, Erik packed his things in a pillowcase). "I live here, so I'll be fine." He acted smooth, but truthfully, he wanted to run up and hug the pillars of the Opera.

"I really meant Hana. I'm just going to brief you on a few things when we get to the cellar." Aislin picked up one of Hana's bags of food and headed inside.

The three of them stood in the entryway of the Opera – cavernous, elaborate, and with rather too much gold in the décor. "Welcome to the Paris Opera House." A tall, dark-skinned man in an odd hat greeted them, looking more than a little amused at the sight of Erik with his two phangirls.

"Hello, daroga," replied Erik sourly. The Persian, who will be referred to as Nadir – a name which is not canon, but is inevitably the only one he has, raised an eyebrow upon seeing Erik in his rather more laid-back wardrobe. Erik looked down at his jeans.

"Don't expect to see it too often."

Nadir spread his arms wide. "I welcome you to the Opera House. Hana, I am always here to help…and to protect you from this fellow here." He shook Hana's free hand, nodded to Aislin, and waved to Erik. "It's never too hard to find me. See you around the theater!" And he strode off into said theater.

Erik rounded on Aislin. "Did you put him up to this?"

She stood her ground. "Yes I did. Hana needs another friend that's not a murderer around this place. Hilary will be able to help her when she's needed, but she can't hover over her all the time. Now then…to the cellars…" She looked around.

"Lead the way, Erik."

Erik smirked, and strode ahead of her. He decided to take a longer way around, in order to leave the more frequently used passages of his Opera in secret. Couldn't have Hana knowing every turn of the labyrinth. He made his way into a smaller hallway off to the side, and opened up a nearly invisible trapdoor in the floor. Lithely, he slid through into the darkness below. Aislin jumped fearlessly in behind him. Hana shifted from foot to foot.

"Are you sure?" she called.

"Just jump!" came Aislin's voice, not at all far away. Hana jumped.

The floor was maybe six feet below the door, and she quickly landed.

"Oh," she said. She closed the trapdoor behind her.

Erik's golden eyes twinkled in the dark. They blinked. Then they disappeared as he turned around. "Follow me," he ordered in a whisper. He then proceeded to guide them along a twisting route through the five cellars, through numerous trapdoors, behind a lot of pieces of scenery, and at last to the edge of the lake.

Having taken a longer route, he was more than ready to get inside his little house. Aislin was fiddling crossly with the dirt-stained hem of her black dress, and Hana looked ready to collapse into the lake.

Erik pulled the little boat out of a small cove made by a piece of discarded scenery leaning against a wall on the far lakeside. He picked up the pole, then stared at it.

"What's wrong?" inquired Hana, shaking with the cold of the cellars.

"I…don't know if the boat can carry more than two people. It wasn't even made for more than one, and I've never had to bring three in at once." Erik tested the boat with his foot, and it, of course, supported his own weight.

They all looked at each other for a while. As much as one can look at someone in near-total darkness, anyway.

Aislin blinked.

Hana blinked.

Erik's golden eyes blinked.

"Oh, fine," huffed Aislin. "Leave me then, why don't you. Little Aislin doesn't matter, no, leave her in the dirt." She plopped down into the damp soil by the lake, arms folded. Glaring at Erik and Hana through the darkness, she shooed them away with her hands.

Hana climbed into the boat. Erik shrugged, and joined her. He thrust the pole into the water, pushing them away from the edge, where Aislin sat stirring the water with her finger.

Ten minutes later, he deposited Hana before his front door and started turning the boat around to go back.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" asked Hana, pointing to the door that was barely discernible in the shadow.

"And leave you alone in my house with all my things?" Erik retorted. "I think not. You stay there, and I'll be back in a minute."

Twenty minutes was more like it. He had to pole all the way back for Aislin, whose only consolation for her abandonment was the fact that Hana was now waiting alone on the other side of the lake as well. Then he had to pole Aislin across – resulting in a grand total of twenty minutes.

Hana was now very cold.

The two girls stood side by side while Erik did…something…with the door. They weren't quite sure how he got it to open, as it didn't have a knob or a visible lock. But open it he did, and it swung open to reveal the sitting room, in all its velvet draped, candlelit, flower-strewn glory.

Hana nearly fainted.

Erik sighed again. "Home…"

Aislin ushered them inside. Hana flopped down on a dark red couch, and Erik wandered over to a door – doubtless the door to the music room.

"Not yet, Erik," Aislin called, "I still have to tell you something. Give it a second." He came back and sat on a stiff wooden chair. There being no other furniture in the room aside from a coffee table in the middle and some small candle- or flower-covered desks lining the walls, Aislin stood. She cleared her throat.

"You are now here at the Opera house, for the rest of this week and one week after. How you spend your time here is up to you. Hana is not required to stay in Erik's house, but if she does, she is not allowed in his bedroom or his music room. Those are off limits. Should she not stay in the cellar, then she must stay in one of the upstairs dressing rooms. Erik?" She looked pointedly at him. "It's your call – here or upstairs?"

"Upstairs," Erik replied promptly. His home was his home – it was not to be invaded. Hana looked rather disappointed.

"All right then," said Aislin briskly. "Hana will accompany me back up when I leave."

"Oh, that's all right," said Erik. "I can take her to her room."

Aislin stared at him. Erik _volunteering_ to go somewhere alone – for however short a time – with an unrestrained phangirl. Scary. "Erm…okay. Anyway, you do what will. Hana isn't allowed to try anything against Erik's will, and she can only come to the cellar when Erik invites her. And Erik – you can't just _not_ invite her the whole time you're here. She must come to see you at least once every day if you don't go to see her. Erik isn't allowed to lose his temper so much that he drops a chandelier, murders unsuspecting stagehands, or throws Hana into the torture chamber. He does however, have the right as the Opera Ghost to threaten anyone, abduct anyone, and throw anyone to the Siren. Got it?"

They nodded, rather regretfully. The loss of full use of the Punjab lasso was a hard blow for Erik. And Hana couldn't sneak down here to see him? How disappointing.

"Here," Aislin gave Erik a paper with a small map of the second floor on it, the floor with the actual auditorium and the dressing rooms. It had a map to Hana's room. "Shouldn't be too hard to find." She smiled slyly. It's Christine's old room."

Erik gaped at her. "She's staying in Christine's room? _Why?_"

"Why not? It's the only dressing room with a connecting passageway, and you needs to be able to get to ger easily. It's not like Christine is still there. Oh, and Hana? While you're here, you have to take part in the Opera."

"What?" Hana stared back.

"You thought you were here just to play around?" scoffed Aislin.

"…Kinda."

"Well, no. Even Erik has a job. He haunts the place. You have to be a ballet girl, or a chorus girl, or a stagehand…girl. I recommend chorus girl – Erik's supposed to train your voice anyway. Someone will come with instructions on your rehearsals tomorrow."

Hana sulked for a moment. Aislin waved and departed.

"Wait! Will you be returning?" Erik called after her, but there was no answer. It was Erik's turn to sulk.

"Come," he said to Hana, who then jerked out of her own thoughts. "We'll leave through the torture chamber. Since she obviously took the boat." He led her into a side bedroom – evidently the Louis-Philippe room, and through another door which he unlocked.

Hana was then greeted by endless Eriks in every direction. She stared wildly at the infinite Phantoms surrounding her.

"What?" asked the Eriks.

Hana then fainted.

………………………………………………

And so it begins! Again. And MetaChi – if you're reading this, do you think I could sort of borrow the Siren for a couple of chapters? She can hop dimensions anyway – why not phics? (And I forgot to thank you in my review for giving me so much time in _Soul Exchange_ – thanks!) Review!


	6. Day 6, Wednesday

Okay, I'm really behind – sorry for the late update! But I had a play competition and a choir competition and a piano competition and an academic competition is coming up and late homework that I'm still not done with… Hey, the school year's ending and all the stuff is packed in.

ElfLover: Is it really a rowboat in the book? I've read it four times and I don't remember that…hm… Anyway, I go by a weird mixture of both – I use mainly stuff from the book, but the managers' names, Erik's apparel – including mask, and some other things come from the musical. One of these things is the gondola – which I shall continue to call simply 'the boat' because I don't like the word 'gondola.' It makes me think of Italy, not the lake under the Opera. Oh – another thing – my Christine is BLOND. All the physical appearances of my characters are as they are in the book. So Christine is blond and Erik's eyes are golden. And so on.

MetaChi: I swear I thought I gave you one – you're in my white spiral notebook – but I checked the story and you're right, you're not in it. Sorry! I'll be sure to give you an appearance in this. And thank you – I just think she'd make an interesting addition to a few chapters.

EriksIngenue: Wow, thanks! Such high praise! Your review made me want to update. So you all have EriksIngenue to thank for this chappie.

…………………………………………..

Hana awoke early the next morning in a small room. It didn't look like it was made for living in. A green velvet couch was squeezed into the corner – that was where Hana was laying. On the other side of the small, square, white room, there was a wooden white vanity, with one drawer and a polished surface. Beside the vanity was a large mirror in an ornate gold frame, reaching from the floor almost to the ceiling. Hana rubbed her eyes and squealed at the sight of the mirror. Scrambling out of the couch, she dashed up to it. Hana pushed all her weight against the glass, but it didn't give. Apparently this mirror wasn't going to let her through from this side.

Hana folded her arms sulkily. She turned to see the rest of the room. There wasn't much else. There was a small closet by the couch, with a few dresses that managed to be both uncomfortable-looking and incredibly simple at the same time. There were also two pairs of flat shoes and…Lord in heaven, there was a corset.

She checked the drawer of the vanity and found only a brush, comb, hand mirror, and some generic makeup.

She sighed. Hana looked at the digital watch on her wrist. It was nearly six…a.m. She must have fainted pretty early last night. And Erik had carried her to her room.

Hana gasped. Erik had carried her to her room! She had been _in Erik's arms_, and she'd missed it because she'd been unconscious! She slapped herself in the face. Couldn't she have _pretended_ to faint, so she'd remember it?

Grumbling, she looked down at her clothes. Her jeans and T-shirt were rumpled and dirty, after having been dragged through the cellars and then slept in. She'd have to change.

She found her luggage next to the door…but her clothes weren't in it. All the food she'd brought, and her accessories were there, but the clothes had been removed.

"Am I supposed to wear the dresses?" she wondered aloud. Hana wasn't really in the mood to put on period clothes. It was too early for corsets. She was hungry.

She sat down at the vanity for some melted vanilla soup for breakfast. What did a girl have to do for a refrigerator?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik awoke rather late that day. Normally, he rose at six or so to do some work on his music, or maybe just bother the managers a bit. But that day, he didn't wake until eight. He supposed it was the trip catching up to him. The phans had exhausted him. It felt good to get even a little sleep. After Hana had fainted, he'd taken her up to Christine's room (_six_ floors above his house) and deposited her on the couch. He had then returned and crashed right away in his coffin.

Ah, his beloved coffin. He'd missed it so.

Although he was using a pillow now that he'd taken from Christine's room in the cellar. He was accustomed now to them.

He climbed out of the coffin and stretched, still in the clothes he'd worn last night. He scowled at the wrinkled red shirt and jeans. He quickly stripped them off, replacing them with a fresh tuxedo from his closet. He washed his face for the sake of waking himself up – not like anyone would see it – and put on a shiny pair of shoes, an ironed cape, and his fedora. He caught his imposing reflection in the lid of his coffin.

The Phantom of the Opera was back.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After an hour of ice cream soup and another hour of playing around in the dressing room – which she could find no key for and was therefore locked in – Hana was very bored. She couldn't get out by the mirror or the door, and so she was forced to wait until someone came for her.

Which they eventually would. Right?

Hana jumped to her feet with the intention of screaming for help.

But the book said that Christine's dressing room was far removed from the others. And who was at the Opera at eight a.m.? No one, according to Mama Valerius in the book.

And screaming was bad for her voice anyway.

There came a knock at the door.

"Finally!" Hana cried, and she threw herself at the door. "Let me out!"

There came a fumbling and scratching noise. The lock turned, and the door swung open to reveal a very shocked Hilary.

"Thank God!" gasped Hana, falling against her fellow phan. Hilary pushed her up and placed the bronze key in her hand.

"Okay…" murmured Hilary, more than a little confused. "Um…you have a rehearsal in a few minutes onstage."

"What?" wondered Hana.

"You're going to be a chorus girl, right? Well, rehearsal is in ten minutes. You have to hurry and get dressed." She looked her up and down. "And you have to wear the stuff in the closet."

Hana turned to stare at the dresses. "Why?"

"Aislin says so." Hilary walked into the room and shut the door.

"NO!" Hana threw it open. "I've been in here for two hours, and I think I'm scarred for life. I don't ever want to close that thing again."

"But you have to change!"

"Don't care. I'll do it with the door open." Hilary shrugged and helped her into the corset ("OW! How did women manage with these things! Don't singers have to breathe?") and a pink dress.

"M. Lefevre will give you details on the show, and um…" She scratched her head. "That's all I know. Go, hurry." She pushed Hana, and followed her down the hall to the auditorium.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

For lack of anything better to do, Erik decided to head on down to the stage to see what was going on. He wouldn't alert Hana to his presence just yet – might as well see how things would go for her without him. He smirked a little. This could be very entertaining.

He suddenly remembered that he had said he was going to give lessons to this girl. His shoulders sagged. That could cause some problems. Was he supposed to go to her room…or take her down to the cellars? Aislin had said she wasn't allowed in the music room – thank heaven.

What the heck was he going to teach her? _Opera?_ Maybe she was pretty good, but she was no opera singer.

Erik was so lost in his thoughts that he arrived at the auditorium before he was aware of where his feet were carrying him. Narrowly avoiding walking into the great front doors, he slipped around, up a small staircase, and into Box Five. No one would be able to see him up here unless he decided to show himself. If the Phantom of the Opera did not want to be seen, then he was invisible. Erik took a seat in the shadowed corner of the box to observe the rehearsal.

Hana stood at the back of a small crowd performers onstage, being instructed by M. Lefevre.

Some changes had occurred at the Opera since the end of the story. As Christine had left with Raoul, she no longer worked at the Opera. Thus leaving Carlotta to sing leads whether the managers wanted her to or not. Which they did. Tasteless tone-deaf idiots. Erik had been desperately but secretly listening to every chorus girl individually, looking for one with at least a smidgeon of talent, to push into the diva's place. Not that the Angel of Music was looking for another client – he just wanted someone else – _anyone_ else – to sing…instead of Carlotta.

The leading tenor was Carolus Fonta. Thank the Lord that Piangi was gone. Fonta was at least tolerable. And he wasn't overweight – that at least weighed in his favor, no pun intended. (A/N: Carolus Fonta being Piangi's replacement is my happy medium between book and musical canon. Piangi's dead anyway.)

Meg still danced with the other ballet rats, and Mme. Giry still taught them. That was something that didn't look like it was ever going to change.

"And so our upcoming opera will be Cinderella. Mademoiselle Hana will be our leading lady, due to…certain requests made by a devoted patron." Hana knew it was Aislin. She scowled. So did Carlotta. "La Carlotta will be one stepsister, and Madame Isabelle will be the other." He pointed out another singer, who had joined the Opera not too long ago. _A voice like a washboard_, Erik thought in his box. "Monsieur Fonta shall be the prince."

Hana half listened as Lefevre assigned the roles of the Tutor – this opera's equivalent of the fairy godmother, the stepfather – no mother in this one, and the others. There was a chorus of men that sang in some scenes, and they received their roles as well. The other members of the cast were to stay for rehearsal. "Mademoiselle Hana," said Lefevre. "You have a previous appointment."

"I do?" she said.

"A private lesson. You may go."

Hana realized what this meant, and ran out of the auditorium.

Erik realized as well. He was supposed to give her a lesson! He dashed out of the box and down to the entrance hall where she was waiting.

Hana dashed up to him. "Hi Erik! Are we going to your place?"

Erik was about to refuse. Then he realized there was no way to play music in Hana's room, and he had no violin with him. Caught between the hammer and the anvil. "Yes," he sighed.

Once more, he led Hana through the twisting labyrinth to his home in the cellars. He retrieved his violin from the music room – where Hana was not allowed to go, you recall – and played a simple note.

"I know you can sing Broadway, but let's get a feel for your operatic voice. You're lucky – the role of Cinderella is somewhere between alto one and soprano two, so you shouldn't have any deathly high notes to hold out. And the whole thing is in English. I think this show was chosen especially for you." Erik played an arpeggio, and Hana began to sing.

Erik stopped her after two notes.

"You think you'll be able to be heard with air flow like that? Breathe deeper, fill all of your lungs, and don't let half of your air out on the first note. Remember, there's no microphone." Hana started again. Erik stopped again.

"You're not paying attention to the breath." He angrily stood behind her, placing her hands on her lower abdomen. Hana blushed.

"Take a breath, and push here to help the force of the air." Hana did so. She felt a considerable difference. "Again." She repeated the exercise several more times.

"Now let's try the vocalization again."

Again, she hadn't sung three notes when Erik stopped her.

"Watch your vowel formation. The 'ah' sound is farther back in the throat. You don't want to block the passage of the sound. Sing 'ah ee eh oh oo' for me." She did so. "Your 'eh' sound is too nasal. You want to keep the sound in the throat, not the nose. Try another arpeggio now."

Hana sighed. This was going to be a long day.

……………………………

I took the vocal exercises from my own vocal lesson. And my school once hosted a professional performance of this version of Cinderella – everything about it is true. Oh, and has anyone else noticed that the website now allows fics in Punjabi? Just thought it was interesting. Hope you enjoyed this nice long chappie. Review!


	7. Day 7, Thursday

Ugh…my computer is totally eating my disks. I save stuff on a floppy, then when I try to put it in and open stuff a few days later it says that 'the disk is not formatted.' To format said disk will erase all the stuff on it. I had an unfinished _novel_ on one of those disks. Please mourn my lost vampire novel. I will reclaim it yet!

Anyway, it makes it hard for me to reference past chapters and things. Just know that no previous updates have been lost in this fashion. I'll save this to my desktop while I work on it. Also, I was originally going to do one day per chapter, but I'm realizing that it shortens my story, so I may put more chapters to a day. Consequently, this fic will be longer than the pre-assumed 14 chapters. Hope that's okay.

EriksIngenue: Aw, but I have to acknowledge you! I used to acknowledge all my reviewers…back in the days when I only had a few. Now I only reply to a few. You're lucky! (Note: The chances of me replying to your review are good if you asked me a question that I must answer.)

ElfLover: AUGH! LUCKY! I want to see that opera SO bad. Was it good? Give me a play-by-play. I'm reading Doctor Faustus by Marlowe just because it's the same story. And since gondolas are more romantic, you can also see why I decided to go with that instead of a rowboat. And Carolus is choking, dear, loosen your grip.

CloudxInxCrimson: Haha! I know you said 'Mmmm,' or something to that effect in your review, but it came out as just 'M.' They delete excess letters, so if I tried to say 'Nuuuu,' it'd come out 'Nu.' And how much emphasis can that express? Since Cinderella was performed at my school (though not BY my school), I know it well enough to use it.

Enigmatic Mystery: Try the stuff I mentioned in the lesson and see if it helps. I should put singing tips on my website. Why Romanian?

MetaChi: Thanks! I'll put her in as soon as possible. And yes, vocal lessons are like that. At my first one, we spent…maybe forty or so minutes of an hour-long lesson _warming up._

……………………………….

When Hana went to bed that night, she had virtually no voice left, and basically had time only to crash into bed – or couch, literally – and fall asleep instantly.

Erik meanwhile, was feeling rather good. He had had a vigorous musical warm up – though his 'warm up' might be a full workout for Hana – and he was in a very melodious mood. He pulled out his yet unfinished violin piece that he had been working on in Hawaii and the Muses struck. Erik ended up going into one of his rather obsessive modes, and didn't sleep a wink that night.

Ah – he had thought the days of surviving only on his music for nights on end were long gone.

Of course…we know that it isn't the best idea for Erik to be interrupted while he's working. _Don't we?_

Hana arose late that morning, and was struck by a panic attack when she realized that she was an hour late for rehearsal. She scrambled out of…couch, and struggled to get into her corset, with no luck. "HILARY!" she screamed.

The shriek of a phangirl – indeed, any fangirl – can be heard for miles around. Even Carlotta's vocal instructor had to clamp his hands over his ears at the pitch and volume. But it accomplished its goal – Hilary was falling into the room within seconds.

"What? What is it?" she asked wildly.

"I'm _really_ late for rehearsal, and M. Lefevre is going to kill me, and I'm dying of hunger, and my voice is still giving out on me from last night's lesson, and I can't get into my stupid seventeenth-century outfit, and HELP ME." She panted from saying all of this in one breath, and collapsed on Hilary, which was uncomfortable, as Hilary had fallen onto the floor when she first came in. Hana knocked the wind out of her as she landed.

"Okay," gasped Hilary, "okay. I'll get you into the dress, and then you just run off to the rehearsal and…yeah." She yanked the corset and tied it tightly, then helped Hana into another hated dress, this time green. They did all this with the door of the dressing room closed – apparently Hana's locked door-induced claustrophobia had been temporary. Then she rocketed off to the auditorium, leaving a rather windblown Hilary behind. Hilary blinked.

"Aislin really ought to pay me for this," she muttered.

Hana arrived in the middle of Don Magnifico's solo about his dream of the preceding night, involving a donkey that sprouted wings. Don Magnifico was this version of Cinderella's 'stepmother'…obviously a stepfather. According to his interpretation of the dream, his two daughters were the wings, meant to carry the lowly donkey into the heights of honor, nobility, and of course, riches. He himself was the 'ass' in the dream.

Yes well, it was a comic play.

The baritone playing the role of Don Magnifico, whose name was Armand, stopped in the midst of his song to glare at Hana, joined shortly by Isabelle, the woman playing Tisbe, one of the stepsisters hanging on his every word. Carlotta, the reluctant second sister, Clorinda, scoffed.

Lefevre tapped his foot impatiently at the sight of Hana. "Ah, here's our Cenerentola," he said dryly.

"What?" gaped Hana, still not truly awake. "I'm Cinderella."

"Cenerentola is Cinderella's given name in this opera, or have you not read your script, mademoiselle?"

Hana shifted her feet uncomfortably. She hadn't looked too closely at her script at all. When she had her lesson with Erik, they hadn't done much work with the actual material from the opera. Now she didn't even know her character's name. "No, monsieur," she replied softly. Carlotta smirked some more.

"Eet seems that this girl ees not ze right type for zis role, monsieur. Eef I may –"

"Pardon, madame, but you may not." Aislin came striding into the theater, black skirts swirling impressively around her ankles. "I believe Mademoiselle Hana has been selected for this part, and you will rejoice in your role of Clorinda or play the role of a spectator." Carlotta fumed as Aislin settled herself in a center seat. "Don't mind me, I'm not here," she announced, and folded her hands calmly.

Lefevre nodded. "Pardon me, mademoiselle, but have you business here today?" The cast assembled onstage fell out of character as their director lost his focus on the rehearsal, starting to talk loudly.

"I am a patron, if you recall, and I have just finished a transaction with the managers. Please continue. I want to see the rehearsal."

"Of course," said Lefevre politely. "Hana," he barked, losing all trace of politeness. "Get out your script, I want to run through your opening solo." She stared at him blankly, and he sighed exasperatedly. "The one about the story of the king?"

She continued to stare. As he had been speaking, it had dawned on her that after last night's practice, she had been so tired that she'd left the music in Erik's house.

"Erm…I can't." Lefevre froze, looking quite angry. "I left the music at my…teacher's…house." Lefevre sighed again.

"You are dismissed from this rehearsal. But you will retrieve that music and report to me at seven tonight for a private practice. This opera will open at the end of your stay here – yes, don't look surprised, we've been working on it for weeks waiting for word on our Cenerentola – and you must be ready when it does. Do you hear?" He shook her as if to emphasize his words, and Hana nodded. She turned and ran out of the theater.

"Lovely start, Hana," Aislin whispered as she passed. Hana glared at her.

She hovered in the hallway before deciding where to go. She had to get down to the cellars _now_. She had no idea where Erik was to be found at the moment. So frustrated and confused, she set off in the direction of the first set of stairs going down that she could find. All the way down to the fifth cellar, counting as she went along.

It was really dark.

I mean _really_ dark.

Hana wished she had a flashlight.

Now that we've established the concept of just how dark it was, you can understand how it came to be that Hana walked right into the lake.

Now it was dark _and_ cold.

Hana climbed out of said lake and wrung out her sopping dress. She wondered how she was going to get across for a few moments, until she noticed the boat on the edge of the lake. She didn't stop to think about why it was still on this side, she just climbed in and started poling across.

The first ten minutes found her losing her grip on the pole, slipping on the floor of the boat and nearly falling out, and somehow managing to turn the boat around in every direction but forward. But somehow, some way, she found a way to propel the boat in the direction she wanted to go.

At least…she hoped it was the direction she wanted to go…

As the boat made its way into the deeper darkness over the lake, Hana thought she could hear something.

It sounded like singing…

Was it coming from above? Hana looked up. Perhaps behind her…or to the side… Her head whipped around in all directions before she realized that it was underneath the boat.

It was extremely beautiful singing…entrancing, really…

Suddenly the boat capsized.

Hana shrieked and flailed her arms, trying to stay above water. She felt arms pulling at her, trying to drag her under…she screamed Erik's name countless times…

Abruptly, the arms that were trying to drown her pushed her back onto the overturned boat.

Hana blinked. What just happened?

A blue head with stringy greenish hair dripping with lake water emerged beside her. Hana looked ready to scream again, before said face broke into a wide grin.

"Hi."

"Um…" Hana stared. "Hi."

"What are you doing in the lake?" asked the green-haired creature innocently.

Hana stared some more. "You…pulled me in."

"Oh, right." She rubbed her head. "Sorry about that. But it's my job, you know – guard the house from intruders and all."

Hana examined her closely. "Are you the Siren?"

"Yup!" The Siren clapped her hands happily, splashing water into Hana's face.

"But I thought Erik was the Siren?" Hana had read the book, and was now extremely confused. "Was that you singing?"

The Siren snorted. "As if." She pulled out a little waterproof tape recorder. "It was Sarah Brightman!" She dropped the tape recorder, and it sank rapidly to the bottom of the lake. She then leaned on the capsized boat. "So…come to visit Erik?" she asked conversationally.

"Yes." Hana shivered. "Um…Siren? Do you think you could help me…?"

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry." The Siren dove underwater and pushed the capsized boat over, sending Hana with it. She pulled her back into the little vessel. "There you go." She smiled again. "And I'll even give you a boost to the other side!" With a sudden burst of energy, she dove back underwater and propelled the boat to the opposite side at frightening speed.

Hana clambered out of the boat, very shell-shocked.

"Bye!" called the Siren happily. She splashed away. Hana watched her retreat.

"Weird," she said.

She turned and knocked on where Erik's door should be. She got no response. Then she noticed a dim edge of light coming through. Somehow, the door had been left open. She pushed it.

Once inside, Hana heard thunderous music coming from a room off to the side. Erik had switched from his violin to the organ in a fit of composition frenzy. Entranced, Hana followed the music, and found herself in the music room.

Obviously.

Where, if you recall, she was not allowed.

Now, Erik probably wouldn't have noticed she was there, entwined in his music as he was, if she hadn't tripped and caused a thick, iron music stand full of parchment sheets to clang to the ground.

He struck a great dissonance, and slowly turned to glare at Hana, frantically fumbling with the stand, trying to organize the sheets and ultimately dropping the whole thing again. She smiled sheepishly, and stepped away from the mess. "Hi," she said innocently.

Fire erupted in Erik's eyes. "You're not allowed in here!" he hissed. He picked Hana up by with surprising ease.

"Now, what was it Aislin said I was _allowed_ to do to you? Oh yes." He stormed out of the music room and kicked open the front door.

"Throw you to the Siren!" He flung a trembling Hana back into the lake. She landed with a tremendous splash as he slammed the door behind him.

The Siren – who Hana was now pleased to have befriended beforehand – surfaced again.

"Back so soon?"

…………………………………………

Finally! My update! Hope you all like it. And I hope I haven't lost readers! Don't worry – school is ending. Once it's summer, I'll be able to update a lot more often.


	8. Day 7 Continued

This is just a quickie update. If any of you have read my poetry _Songs of the Raven - _and even if you haven't – PLEASE vote for me on the Phanphiction Reader's Choice Awards! You can find the website at www (dot) freewebs (dot) com/phanphicawards. Also, if I forgot to say it last time, the Siren as she appears in this phic belongs to MetaChi.

Clair: Actually, America doesn't have an official language, since there are so many people that speak so many different things. Melting pot, and all.

EriksIngenue: Yes, in the book it's Erik singing from underwater through a hollow reed. Then he comes up and tries to drown whoever's intruding on his lake. It nearly happens to the Persian. …Nooo, no physical attraction. I guess I wasn't being clear. I meant that he picked her up by the collar, like when you pick up a kitten by the scruff of its neck.

Elflover: Yeah, but I mean they're uncomfortable. Corsets and everything. Ugh, lucky, lucky, lucky! I just read Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, and I'm looking for Goethe's. That's the one you saw, right? Mephistopheles rocks.

……………………………

Hana blinked. Once again she found herself submersed in the cold waters of Erik's lake, with the Siren at her side. Said Siren swam up and helped her out of the lake. The organ started echoing loudly from Erik's house. Hana sighed.

"What's up?" inquired the Siren.

Taking a seat beside the lake's edge, she introduced herself. "I'm Hana – the contest winner?" The Siren nodded. "I _really_ have to study my part for _Cinderella_, but I left my music in there." She jerked her thumb toward the house. "He'll never let me in now."

The Siren shrugged. "Sorry 'bout that. I'd get it for you, but I'd never be able to open that door. Plus he'd figure out it was me."

"How?" wondered Hana.

"Water spots all over the carpet."

"Oh."

They were quiet for a while.

"Want to go play paintball?"

"What?" Hana stared at her. The Siren shrugged again.

"We can't get your music until Erik cools off. Or at least until he opens the door. So you wanna go and kill some time until then?"

Hana considered. She didn't have a lesson until seven, so it'd be kind of cool to go hang out with the Siren. "Okay," she agreed. Climbing into the boat again, she braced herself as she was slingshot-ed over to the opposite side of the lake. The Siren hopped out of the water, and Hana was surprised to find that this blue mermaid-like creature had legs. Scaly and finlike, yes, but legs.

"To the paintball grounds!" she called, pointing dramatically in a random direction. She set off with Hana, who was still rather confused.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik sat pounding the organ angrily. As time passed, though, the music began to cool down, becoming calmer and smoother.

All violin inspiration had now left him.

He massaged his head and moaned. Perhaps he _had_ been a little hard on Hana, but he absolutely hated to be interrupted while he was working. And it had been such a good song too. He supposed it would have to go unfinished for the moment. Leaving the now silent organ, he went to the door and pushed it open. Hana was nowhere in sight.

"What had she even come down here for?" Erik irritably said aloud.

He swung the door shut again and fastened its numerous locks. Flopping down onto the couch, he noticed he was crushing a large amount of paper. It was Hana's copy of _Cinderella._

That was what she had wanted. She came down for her music for rehearsals.

_And I threw her in the lake._

Erik felt a bit guilty. All he had to do was give her the music, and then she would have left him in peace. He hadn't needed to be so aggressive.

Then he stood up indignantly. Why was he feeling guilty? He was the Phantom of the Opera! Regret should be an alien emotion to him! It was just as much her fault! All _she_ needed to do was pick up the music. Coming into the music room – which she _knew_ was off-limits – wasn't necessary!

Storming, he dropped the music sheets and went looking for something to eat.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A large blue paintball exploded in Hana's face.

"Gotcha!" called a girl from high in a tree. MetaChi was her name – the Siren had insisted that she come along with them on their paintball excursion. Hana fired her red paintballs in her general direction, but to no avail. MetaChi laughed.

Hana decided to revenge herself upon the Siren, who was crouching behind a nearby bush, believing herself to be unseen. Soon, she was splattered with red.

"Not fair!" she called, sending green paint back as a response.

With her position exposed, MetaChi fired at her, thereby exposing her own position to Hana, who fired at her, creating a triangle of red, blue, and green paintballs.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Meanwhile, Erik, while grumbling excessively, returned to the living room and started to gather up the scattered music sheets.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Okay, who got hit the most?" The Siren rubbed her hands together eagerly, counting the colored spots on the three splattered girls.

"I think MetaChi won," said Hana, who was now firm friends with the both of them. "I only hit her five times."

"I only got hit twelve times," said the Siren proudly.

"You did not, I hit you loads of times, you just can't see the blue paint on your skin," retorted MetaChi.

"Yeah, well I see smudges where you wiped paint off!" said the Siren smugly.

"Okay, okay, I know how we can solve this problem," said Hana, pretending to play the mediator. "I won."

Arguments broke out again as they made their way to the Opera.

Hana and the Siren said goodbye to MetaChi at the Opera doors while a winner still hadn't been chosen. They decided to meet for lunch someday to finish the argument. Hana left the Siren and returned to her room.

Closing the door behind her, she turned around and stopped.

Her music lay neatly on her couch waiting for her.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Why are you covered in paint?" asked Lefevre, looking rather bewildered as Hana entered a small practice room above the main auditorium for her lesson.

She smiled as she opened her music.

………………………………………….

Yes, I know it's short, but you're lucky to have an update at all. I just got back from Washington, D.C. Please vote for my poetry!


	9. Day 8, Friday

Totally not in the mood to update. I hope that doesn't affect the quality of the story. Also, I seem to have lost lots of readers. Makes me sad. Like thirty people have me on Author Alert, but I'm only getting around four reviews per chappie! If you're reading and not reviewing – please do so! It makes me happy!

EriksIngenue: You need to read _Erik is Fired! _by MetaChi. That's where the Siren and the paintball idea came from.

ElfLover: I guess she's just used to jeans and stuff. Think of what it would be like if suddenly you had to wear long, full dresses and corsets every day! And maybe it was Goethe's words (he wrote the play…book…words) and Gounod's music. I dunno. I wouldn't know.

………………………………

The next morning, Hana awoke surprisingly rested. She and Lefevre had gone through the entire libretto of _Cinderella, _and now she understood the music quite well. All she needed now was to memorize the music…and the blocking…and the cues…okay, so maybe she had a ways to go. And only a week to do it in.

That was where Erik came in.

She was going to depend on Erik entirely in order to memorize the music. Lord knew he'd drill it into her like there was no tomorrow. Because, in a way, there wasn't. Lefevre could handle the rest.

She always was quick at picking things up.

She slipped into a red dress as she thanked God the opera was in English. Hana secretly left off the corset for that day. She wasn't fat anyway. She could survive without it.

Hana headed off to her rehearsals, while someone watched from the shadows. The person watching slipped off to the cellars as Hana disappeared from sight.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Nadir knocked on Erik's door. The Siren came swimming up to him, resting her arms on the edge of the lake.

"Hi, Persia," she said cheerily.

"Don't call me that," Nadir replied coolly.

"Well, fine," huffed the Siren. "See if Fred and I invite you to our next Twister party." She dove underwater, deliberately splashing him.

Of course, Erik opened the door at that exact moment, so she ended up splashing him too.

Erik spat out a small amount of water, a dark look on his face. The sopping wet Phantom invited the sopping wet Persian into the living room and shut the door.

"I need to decrease her pay," he muttered.

"You pay her?" Nadir said incredulously. "To do _what_?"

"Oh, nothing much," Erik said casually. "Watch the house, keep the lake tidy, drown intruders, tend the boat…"

Nadir clapped his hand to his face. "Lovely. Erik, I need to talk to you about something."

"Why now, daroga? I am halfway through a lovely violin solo, and I would dearly love to complete it. It's not every day I can write a full song in under a week. Or a month, at that." Erik sat down and crossed his legs in a way that would probably make a large number of phangirls faint.

Note that he was still wet.

Please pause as the authoress revives from her own faint.

Now then, Nadir placed his hands on his hips. Though Erik was a full-grown man, he still often felt like a chiding parent. The Opera Ghost could really be rather childish at times. And stubborn. Oh yes, quite stubborn.

"You haven't been paying any attention to Hana lately," Nadir said flatly.

"I gave her a rigorous lesson the other day!" burst Erik, insulted.

"That was two days ago, and that's not enough," said Nadir calmly.

"Why not? That was all I really agreed to do with her."

"But that's not what the contest was for," pushed the Persian. "You were supposed to fall in love with the winner, not just torture her with lessons!"

"Are you in league with the phangirls?" shouted Erik, standing up quickly. "My God, it's a conspiracy! I'll bet you were working with that Aislin girl this whole time!" He paused. "My lessons aren't torture."

"So what if I was?" Nadir said quietly. "You have to do something with her."

"Punjab her?" inquired Erik hopefully.

"Not that kind of something." Nadir sat down, and Erik reluctantly followed suit. "Do something special. Certainly, you must teach her the music, but don't play the cold teacher."

"What do you want me to do then?" Erik said, inspecting his fingernails.

"Take her out on a date!" volunteered the Siren, entering the house unnoticed and trailing water over the carpet.

Erik scowled. "I'm done with dates. It'll be years before I take another step into a restaurant unguarded, thank you very much."

"Fine." The Siren flopped onto the floor, and Erik frowned at the water soaking the carpet.

"That's going to smell later."

"Charming," Nadir put in. "But she's right. Make a bit of an effort. Do something legendary. Something worthy of the Phantom of the Opera!"

"Carry her off through the mirror to my house and imprison her for a week, perhaps?" he said dryly. "I wonder if Christine's wedding dress will fit her…"

"Great idea!" chimed the Siren.

"Oh, come now." Nadir rolled his eyes. He turned to Erik, and said in all seriousness, "Tonight, after her rehearsals, take her somewhere. Operas, hypnotic music, and ornate building designs come out of that imagination of yours. Surely you can use it to dream up one special night for the girl you yourself picked."

Erik sighed, overly tired by all this. "Fine," he agreed. "One night. This night. Then it's back to business. And I'll show you all that no matter what Christine may have done to me, I've still got it." He stood up. "Now get out of my house."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hana proudly informed Lefevre upon her arrival at rehearsal that she had memorized her entire aria in the first scene. He had applauded sardonically and congratulated her.

"Only an hour and forty-five minutes worth of music left," he had said.

All that rehearsal, he had worked on her blocking. With the rest of the cast, they planned out where she was to move at what times during the whole opera. Reciting lines off the script instead of singing, they ran through it until Carlotta started to complain. Then Lefevre sent Hana off to be fitted for her costumes. She only had two, and they were already made. All she had to do was stop in for alterations.

"You'll need to really crack down on that score with your teacher," Lefevre told her before she left. "Mlle. Aislin assured me that he was the best there was, but I'll be impressed if even he can get you to memorize the entire score by this Friday."

"_Friday?"_ Hana gaped at him. "That's all the time I have left?"

Lefevre shrugged. "Get on it."

Nervous, Hana decided to work on the blocking first. She could handle the music with Erik.

She ran through it in her head. She successfully committed the entire first act to memory while being measured, though the second needed work. After the measurements, she headed off to her dressing room. She wasn't sure if Erik was going to give her a lesson that day, though she prayed for the sake of the people who had bought tickets to the opera that he was. She didn't know if he was still angry with her. Though he _did_ take the time to bring her the music.

Hana turned up the lamp to illuminate the dimming light in her dressing room and lay down on the couch to rest a moment, grateful for the lack of corset.

Suddenly, the room grew dark. The flame of the oil lamp shuddered and nearly went out. Frightened, Hana jumped up. The whole room seemed to tremble, or maybe it was just Hana.

There was a sudden, extremely brief flash of light. Hana whipped around. To her surprise, the mirror was sliding open.

There stood Erik, cape, fedora, and all. He seemed to have carried the lake mists with him, and they swirled around him, filling the tiny room.

_I am your angel of music…_

Erik smirked, his golden eyes twinkling in the dark as the lamp finally blew out. He extended a pale hand to a dazzled Hana.

_Come to me, Angel of Music…_

He wasn't actually saying it, of course, but the words were running endlessly through Hana's mind as she took his cold hand and let him pull her through the opening.

………………………….

Haha, angst! (OMG, The Mirror just came on my LaunchCast station! I had a feeling it would.) Well, not really angst, but I am rather proud of that little piece of writing. Review! And…make others review!


	10. Day 8 Continued

Disclaimer: I borrowed a small quip from _Whose Lair is it Anyway?_ Emmy Christine's patented Look does not belong to me.

I'm rattled by the changed website. All the different features on fanfiction dot net are bugging me. But oh – I'm rereading the Leroux book for the fifth time! (I'd have read it more often…but I don't own my own copy.)

EriksIngenue: Oh, why would I do that to Erik? Heh. You'll see in this chappie. Remember, the rules state that he's not allowed to throw her into the torture chamber.

The Four Random Ones: Oh wow – my story's good enough to keep you reading when your computer doesn't work? O.o Wow. Oh heh – 'blocking' is a theater term meaning the places actors are supposed to stand, walk, and move during a scene. You have to remember where to go, and what to do with the rest of your body while you stand there. Sorry about that. I guess I shouldn't have assumed everyone knew that. …Oh, well I was having some fun of my own with the imagery. Heheh. Glad you liked it. And I'd be very pleased if you drew that picture. I have a phansite – I could put it on there if you like. And so…who are the other three random ones?

ElfLover: Well, I do love The Mirror. Odd, I'm not big on cliffies. It's Lazy.kender who seems to love them – almost a trademark, those cliffies of hers. Well, I guess not everyone hates those dresses – I'd rather like to wear one mysef. Stop making me jealous or I'll Punjab you.

MetaChi: Thank you, thank you. (bows) Glad you liked the tape player bit – I'd be honored myself if I spotted that in one of your future stories.

Phtmangl1013: Um…actually, I don't know. O.o I never imagined her with an outfit…but then, I never really considered her as 'naked.' You'd have to ask MetaChi about that.

………………………………………

Erik led her through the dank passage behind the mirror that he had traveled so recently with Christine…it seemed so long ago. Hana seemed totally enraptured with him. She was barely holding onto his hand, but with a grip so firm he knew she didn't want to let go. He turned to glance at her, following submissively behind him. Hana was staring at Erik with an expression reminiscent of Emmy Rossum's emotionless Look – her eyes had gone slack and her mouth was slightly open. Erik sighed. He wasn't quite sure why he had this effect on women.

Abandoning the route into the cellars, Erik took a different turning and headed up a narrow stairwell. Hana didn't seem to have noticed the change of destination. Erik's footsteps and Hana's heels echoed around the empty stone passage, the silence broken only by the drip of water from an unknown source.

Erik led Hana slowly upward in the unbroken quiet.

Until Hana began to sing.

_In sleep he sang to me…in dreams he came…_

Erik rolled his eyes. Not again…of course she had to let the mood get to her and take over. He couldn't wait until this night was over. He figured he had to keep up the image, both to keep Hana happy and to keep Nadir satisfied. So with a painful sigh, he took up his verse.

_Sing once again with me our strange duet…my power over you…grows stronger yet…_

Well, that was definitely true. Hana's Look transformed into a Look tinged with a smile of ecstasy – good Lord, were all phangirls like this? He was glad that this was the only one he had to deal with at the moment.

She followed up with the third verse, and they completed the song, Erik only half-heartedly commanding her to sing…leaving out the 'my Angel of Music' phrase entirely. He only had one angel…

Erik cringed at the end…well, she was no Christine. She did not have the voice to hit those notes – he supposed she must be a rather high alto…or a rather low soprano – he wasn't sure. Lucky it was over now…and they had reached their destination.

Hana watched him expectantly, as they emerged into the dying sunlight on the roof of the Opera. Erik sniffed, foul memories called to mind by the place, and he led Hana away from the statue of Apollo.

At the edge of the roof, on the east side where the darkness was deepest, there was a low table set up, lit by candles. Two chairs sat next to it. The table was set with a glass dish covered by a black cloth and a tray of sliced fruits. He figured that if he had to do something with Hana, he might as well get dinner out of it. One rose tied with a black ribbon was laid in the middle of the table – Erik hadn't been able to resist the Phantom cliché.

Erik pulled out a chair and offered it to Hana, who sat dazedly in her seat, staring blindly at the silver table setting before her. Erik swept into his own seat across from her.

The Look didn't leave her face. Erik sighed.

Pulling the cloth off of the glass dish, he offered, "Beef stew, my dear?"

Soupy, fluffy words, that was the ticket…sweet talk…

Nothing like 'affection' to satisfy the daroga…

Except he still got no response from Hana.

_What do I have to do, sing it to her?_ he thought furiously. No way was he going to sing to her about beef stew. Instead, he snapped his fingers in front of her face.

Six times.

At long last, she finally came to her senses.

"Help yourself, my flower," Erik said sweetly, ladling said stew onto her plate. With a wide smile, Hana finally showed some signs of intelligent life within her brain and picked up the fork.

…Erik was a good cook.

Forty minutes later, Erik had already had seconds and polished off his dessert of apple wedges and grapes while Hana worked on her first serving of stew. Erik waited patiently for her to finish, all the while screaming in his head, _Get on with it, you snail! Half the time you're missing your mouth with the damned fork!_

Deep breaths, be calm…

When she was finished, he whisked away the plate before she could dare to serve herself more. She picked up an apple wedge and nibbled at it, content to simply stare at Erik without making conversation.

Erik, however, had more in mind than simply sitting in silence. He leaned over beside his chair and lifted his violin out of his case. "Ready, now?"

Hana blinked. "For what?"

"To practice. You must learn your role for the opera as soon as possible." He played a scale.

Hana blinked again, and Erik marveled at the mobility she was showing. "You didn't bring me up here for a romantic date?"

"Heaven forbid I willingly arrange a date for you, dear Hana. As long as I must spend time with you, we're going to practice." He sawed a dissonant chord on the violin. "And practice" – another chord – "and practice" – louder this time – "and practice." Hana covered her ears at the sound, and Erik smirked.

"But…but…I haven't got my music with me!" protested Hana, looking for any excuse to preserve the perfect evening.

"Oh, not to worry," he said smoothly, "I took the liberty of bringing it with me." He pulled Hana's rolled up music score from one of the folds of his cloak. Tossing it over the bowl of beef stew, he commanded, "Page one, my dear, we have much to study."

With a sigh, she opened the music to the first page.

"Stand up, Hana, show me that blocking you've been memorizing."

Groaning, she rose and found a position on the concrete floor of the roof, envisioning the stage to help her get her bearings. She began to sing, with Erik's accompaniment. Soon, as she knew he would, he stopped her.

_Wow,_ she thought, _a whole verse before I screwed up._

They walked through the entire opera with Erik stopping her periodically to correct her. Once they finished the final scene, it was well past midnight, and Hana was exhausted.

"Can I go back to bed now?" she begged. "I have an actual rehearsal tomorrow, and M. Lefevre will kill me if I mess up."

"And I won't?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "No, mademoiselle, you will remain here until I dismiss you. I suppose with our time frame, we can't expect to bring you up to a perfect performance, but I shall do the best that I can. Once more, from the start of act two."

Hana sang until she thought she had no voice left, in which case Erik finally put away the violin and led her back by his secret passages to her dressing room, where she collapsed on her couch, snuggling with the rose she had swiped from the table. Pleased with both her work and his own, Erik departed the room by the mirror. He could use a little sleep as well.

After all, being a lust object was hard work.

………………………………………….

End of another update! Review – I got some from new people this time – keep them coming!


	11. Day 9, Saturday

I don't know why I've been putting off the updates so much lately. I'll give it another go. Also…does anyone think I ought to give the chapters actual titles? I do them this way so I myself will remember what day I'm on and the sequence of events. So you all can remember too. But should they have titles instead?

Mrmistoffelees: Absolutely not. I will not have this phic end up as an OW story. (Love the name, BTW, Cats rocks.)

The Four Random Ones: Well, it's nice to see that my story served a practical purpose as well. Hee. I'm gonna make an Erik plushie. I drew the plans. Now I need to buy the stuff and hope my mediocre sewing skills suffice. Glad my imagery still packs a punch. Whoo!

EriksIngenue: Nearly everyone who reviewed liked that lust object line! I wanted to come up with a better insult for being slow than 'snail' but I swear, I couldn't think of anything! I don't know what happened. The rest of the chapter was so inspired, and I just…went out on that line. O.o Glad you liked it, though!

CloudxInxCrimson: I was hungry and craving beef stew. Seriously. That 'practice and practice and practice' part with the sawing violin chords was my favorite part. I could just see him squealing those notes out for emphasis. Heh.

ElfLover: …That's just not cool. Hmph.

Nativedreaver: Welcome to a new reader! So I suppose I haven't lost my touch.

…………………………………….

Hana was running down a long dark hallway, dripping water that echoed around her with her footsteps. She didn't know where she was going, but she only knew that she had to keep running.

She glanced behind her. M. Lefevre was following, brandishing his baton fiercely. "You have to come to the performance!" he was screaming, his voice muffled as if coming from underwater.

"No!" she called back. "I'm not ready!"

A thousand Carlottas suddenly lined the hallway, laughing at her. "'Oo see, she ees not right for a role of zis magnitude! 'Oo should 'ave given eet to me!"

Hana ran on past the Carlottas and her director. Glancing behind her, she realized she was alone again. Until she crashed into something very solid in front of her.

Turning around nervously, she saw Erik. His yellow eyes glared out at her from the shadows beneath the brim of his fedora. His cape surrounded him on all sides, so nothing could be seen except black, and the glimmer of the white mask.

"Where do you think you're off to, my dear?" he hissed in a saccharine whisper. Hana took a step back. "I have to get away from Lefevre!" she wailed.

"Oh, you're not getting away from anything," he hissed, the sweetness in his voice gone now. "You committed to this, and I worked too hard to have you flee on the night of the performance." Erik whipped his cape back, and Hana's music score was revealed in his hands, looking as if it contained a thousand pages. He threw them into the air and the sheets fell all around her. She was screaming, Erik was laughing, the sheets of music were turning into the mirrors of the torture chamber, spinning wildly around her, she could hear an organ pounding out a death march…

Hana woke up.

Breathing heavily, she looked around her tiny dressing room. It was empty, and utterly dark. Lighting a candle with some difficulty, she looked at the clock on the table. Nearly four in the morning. She still had several hours until…

The performance! She wasn't ready! Hana began to panic, running round and round the room in circles…before it sank in than she still had several days until the performance.

Hana sank to the floor. She was too young for this sort of pressure. Gazing blankly at the crushed rose lying on the floor, she began to contemplate methods of escape.

She could just run away from the Opera. But no, she was here with guaranteed visits from Erik. What kind of phangirl would she be in she left? At the very least, save running away for the actual night of the Opera. No, she couldn't go.

Okay. Get Hilary to sing in her place. She was good. And that was what she was here for, right? Helping Hana? But she hadn't been practicing – she'd be in even worse shape than Hana was now. No, she couldn't do that to Hilary.

Maybe she could fake sickness on the night of the performance. Or she could actually get sick! How hard could it be to catch a cold? Well, it'd be hard in the summer…but she could go swimming in the lake and hang out in the cellars until she was ill…or take a fall off of the stage and break her arm! But Hana didn't think she had the fortitude to purposely harm herself.

She sighed. She'd have to do it. So at the moment, there was only one thing to do.

Hana opened her music and began to memorize.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik woke up rather late that morning, feeling rested. He'd satisfied Hana and Nadir, and even gotten in some good practice for her. Plus, he had plenty of beef stew left over for tonight's dinner.

She had a rehearsal in the morning, and Erik would probably have to practice with her again later today. He was in the mood to _do _something in the time being. What was an Opera ghost to do in his free time?

He could threaten the managers. But what did he want? Nothing at the moment. They could get a better wine – the year that he was stealing from the cupboards now was positively sickly. But what kind of note would that make?

_Gentlemen,_

_I wish to inform you that your wine cellar is running low on what I would actually consider wine. If you do not replace those bottles of dust with quality liquor, you will serve dinner on a cursed table tonight._

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

Hardly a letter worthy of Erik's intimidating prowess.

He settled for frightening some of the performers out of their wits. That was always fun.

Donning his cape and fedora, he headed off to the auditorium.

Meanwhile, Hana had whiled away the four hours left before her rehearsal drilling the opera into her own mind. She started to act rather delirious.

"Once upon a tiiiime, there waaaas a kiiiing –"

"No, Hana, 'king' is flat! Hit the right note!"

"Okay, Hana…"

She was grateful when Hilary came knocking on her door to see where she was. It must have been an odd sight that greeted her – Hana sitting on the floor, her music in her lap and a candle at her side, her hair all disheveled and her dress wrinkled and tossed up about her knees.

"Um…rehearsal…"

"Okay," said Hana calmly. She stood up, brushed off her dress, and picked up her music. "Let's go."

"Um, don't you want to change?" asked Hilary tentatively. "You look like you've been wearing that dress since yesterday."

"I have," answered Hana. "But you're right." She walked over to the dresser and picked up a hairbrush. On the first stroke, the bristles got stuck in her short, tangled hair. She just left it there. "Done."

Not wanting to question, Hilary led her down and left her rather quickly at the door of the auditorium – being careful to blow out the candle in Hana's room before she left. She couldn't leave fire burning in a madwoman's abode.

Everyone on the stage stared at Hana as she entered. She simply walked onstage, disregarding all the incredulous stares she received. Draining a glass of water in Carlotta's hand, she stood ready in front of Lefevre.

"Let's get started," she commanded sleepily.

Lefevre stared at her like all the others, and blinked. "Erm…alright…well, let's start from your opening aria."

"Okay," replied Hana. And she began to sing.

It was amazing that that perfect aria could come out of that unkempt girl who looked as if she had – and had – fallen out of bed that morning. It was really spectacular, the fact that she had the entire scene memorized after a four-hour cram session in which she tortured herself to learn it. Well, when you think of it that way, I guess it isn't so spectacular.

Hana was on a roll. Then, at the end of her song, when the stepsisters start to order Cinderella around again, Isabelle screamed.

In case you don't remember, Isabelle is the woman playing Tisbe, one of the two stepsisters. Carlotta is Clorinda, the other stepsister, and Don Magnifico, the stepfather, is playd by a man named Armand. Carolus is the prince, but he's enjoying a coffee offstage, as he isn't in this scene. Thank you for this review of the cast of Cinderella.

Anyway, Isabelle screamed. Not again. This is still the first scream. The point is, she had noticed a moving shadow somewhere above the heads of the rehearsing cast.

"What ees eet?" Carlotta shrieked frantically, nearly running over Hana trying to reach Isabelle.

"The Opera Ghost!" whimpered Isabelle.

Hana looked up. She didn't see anything – but that didn't mean that Erik wasn't there.

Armand looked around nervously, as if expecting a lasso to slip down around his neck at any moment, and Isabelle seemed sure that another garroted stagehand would come down at any moment.

"Oh, please!" said Lefevre impatiently. "And I thought the ballet girls were jumpy! You're all acting like a bunch of frightened rabbits!" The cast refused to calm down – except for Hana. She was still gazing bemusedly into the rafters wondering if Erik was there.

He was there, actually. All he had done was stand on the edge of the catwalk, looking down at the heads of the actors, a perpetual glare on his face…well, what you could see of it. He had made sure to stand where a certain draft would pick up his cape and flutter it threateningly. One of them was sure to look up sometime.

And one did.

When he had been spotted, and successfully stirred up the confusion he had been hoping for, he had stepped back into the shadows of the catwalk to enjoy the chaos.

"It's so easy, this opera doesn't _need_ a real ghost," he murmured happily to himself.

"Well, this is pointless," said Lefevre, exasperated. "Well just end rehearsal here and pick it up tomorrow."

That brought Hana back to earth. "But I just got here!" she protested. "I need to practice!"

"You can practice on your own time, mademoiselle, this rehearsal has fallen to pieces." Lefevre wasn't changing his mind.

Dejectedly, Hana exited the stage slowly, letting everyone else dash out first. They were probably off to gossip and brag about having seen the Opera ghost. No doubt that by this evening, Isabelle would be telling her friends of the terrifying attempt on her life the ghost had perpetrated, involving kidnap, ransom, and him dragging her off into the cellars before she bravely attacked him and saved herself. Hana shook her head and headed off to the cellars for more desperately-needed practice.

………………………………………………..

Look CIC! One update! Yay! The contest is underway! (Review!)


	12. Day 9, Continued

Well then. I'm still one-up on CIC. And now it'll be two-up! (We're competing to see who updates the most…) And considering no one mentioned the titles except to say they'd never noticed them…I guess I'll leave them as is.

The Four Random Ones: Haha. Oh! I heard that rap! It cracked me up…I listened to it like five times… I thought it was magnificent. No less because it was Michael Crawford doing the rap. _There's_ something I never thought I'd hear. :)

Elflover: (glares) Fine. Be that way. I hope you're done now. Hmph. (Oh – one question. Tell me, which elf is it that you love? Hee…)

Babymene17: I'm glad you think so. (grins) Oh, hey, are you in my Yahoo Group? I think I saw your name – musicofthenight?

……………………………………………..

Erik stood concealed in the shadows above the stage watching the terrified actors dash out of the auditorium. All he had done was stand there. They invented the terror themselves.

"I ought to have brought the lasso – they'd _really_ break down if they saw _that_ in my hand…" He turned around and started down the ladder at the end of the catwalk, his shoes somehow silent on every step on the metal rungs.

Lefevre had left the auditorium now, and the stage and house were in total darkness. Pleased with the solitude, Erik made sure the doors to the auditorium were locked. Lefevre had unwittingly sealed the Opera Ghost into the huge room. Smirking, he unlocked one door near the end of the row of doors. Erik was ready for some real fun now.

Erik knew that there was most likely someone within earshot of the auditorium. It was locked now, and they had no reason to be afraid of it. Erik knew his business well – he had lots of experience in his particular field…restless spirit.

So all he had to do to frighten the nearby people was settle himself before the piano in the pit – like so – and play a little mysterious music. If anyone were to enter the auditorium to investigate, it was a simple matter to slip into the shadows backstage and make his escape through a cleverly concealed trapdoor of his own making.

He wondered why he didn't leave the cellar more often.

What to play, what to play…Erik started off with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata…always a favorite.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Did you really see him?" asked Meg Giry eagerly. She was one of about seven young ballet girls all bobbing excitedly around Isabelle, who looked like she was about to faint.

"Oh yes," she replied dramatically. "I could feel his icy breath on the back of my neck, and when I turned around, no one was there…But then I looked up, and he was standing _on the catwalk_, staring straight at me! I've no idea how he got up there so quickly –"

"He flew!" burst one little ballerina, quickly covering her mouth.

Meg, who knew more about the 'ghost' than any of the other girls – but still precious little – was the most desperate for details. "Go on, then what?"

"Well, then I cried out, and he vanished! Right before my eyes! But I'm sure I heard his footstep following me as I walked away. I looked for him – and I saw him standing right by the door! He reached out for me – " Isabelle imitated a passionate extension of her hand, a look of perfect command and hypnotic beckoning " – to seduce me and take me away to be his ghostly bride!" The ballet girls tittered excitedly. "But Armand pulled me to his side and took me out." She sounded positively disgusted.

"Do you think it was really you he wanted?" inquired Little Jammes – who was no longer so little; she'd had a growth spurt – in a hushed, reverent whisper.

"I'm sure of it," replied Isabelle in the same hiss, leaning against the door of the auditorium as if she'd been through a more dreadful ordeal than opera rehearsal. "And I heard a low voice saying as I left – "

But none of the ballet girls ever found out what Isabelle thought the ghost had said to her, because at that moment, a faint music came floating out of the auditorium. Isabelle leaped away from the door as if she'd been scalded.

They all stood like a bunch of statues, listening to the passionate notes of Moonlight Sonata in an emotion a cross between horror and ecstasy, before Jammes dared to break the silence.

"It's Him!"

Some of the girls edged away.

"It's your ghostly lover!" murmured another girl, prodding Isabelle in the back. "He wants to serenade you - go to meet him!"

They all murmured their agreement, prodding her closer to the entrance.

"I can't get in!" hissed Isabelle. "M. Lefevre locked the doors before he left!"

"You!" barked Meg. "Go find M. Lefevre and get the keys!" The little girl she'd singled out whimpered in fright. Meg stamped her foot impatiently. "Are you sure?"

"I saw him lock the doors myself! We can't get in! Look – " Isabelle yanked hard on the door she'd been leaning on moments ago to prove her point…and it yielded.

Again, she leapt away from the offending door, and they all stood staring at it as it swung innocently on its hinges. Now the poor woman had nowhere to run.

"Go!" all the girls chorused.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hana made her way down into the cellars. It hadn't taken much effort to retrace the path she herself had taken the day she'd met the Siren. On the return journey, she'd marked her progress with luminous masking tape in the right places to make it easier to follow. Now all she had to do was follow the tape's highlighter-orange glow to the edge of the lake. This time, she did not fall in.

The boat was on her side of the lake again. Didn't Erik ever use it to get to the house? Unless he wasn't _in_ the house at the moment…

But that didn't occur to Hana at this moment. She just climbed into the boat and attempted to get across.

The poling wasn't any easier this time than it was last time. She pushed off the edge with the pole…and managed to end up floating in the middle of the lake.

With a sigh, Hana stirred the waters of the lake with the pole. She bumped something with the end.

The Siren rose out of the disturbed waters, clutching the side of her face and a dark look on what wasn't covered.

"You poked me," she said sullenly.

"Sorry," said Hana. "Listen, can you get me over to Erik's side of the lake?"

"Won't do you any good – he isn't in right now," replied the Siren, massaging her forehead. "That's going to leave a mark…"

"He's not in?" Hana sat back in the boat, at a loss what to do now.

"No, but you can wait for him until he comes," said the Siren helpfully. She pulled the boat to the opposite side of the lake and held it for Hana to climb out. She sat on the earthy ground to wait for Erik's return, in the company of the Siren.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The door had opened. Erik smiled in his shadowy corner and changed the music.

Meanwhile, Isabelle and her gaggle of ballet girls edged nervously into the auditorium. It was completely dark – the Opera Ghost could have been standing right in front of them for all they could see. This possibility occurred to a few girls, and they edged closer to Isabelle.

Suddenly, the calm serenade of Moonlight Sonata turned into a burning passionate song that none of the girls present had ever heard before. Entranced, they all stared at the piano.

"It's your lover, Isabelle!" cried the little ballerina before she could stop herself.

Erik chuckled to himself. _Her lover?_ Well, if that was what they wanted…no harm in helping along the rumors. What was that girl's name again? Isabelle…yes, that was it…

With the help of his ventriloquism, he sent a whisper to the very back of the auditorium.

"_My love…_" The girls all leaped away from the sound, which seemed to be only a few feet to the left.

"I thought he was at the piano!" squeaked Jammes.

_"My Isabelle…"_

All the girls squeaked now, and shoved Isabelle forward with amazing strength. The pounding music grew stronger, and began to frighten the girls.

_"Come to me…"_

The voice was drawing away, moving down the aisle between the rows of seats toward the stage. She followed it, but the others stayed where they were. Trembling, they watched her follow the whisper to the powerful music.

Suddenly, the song ended in one jarring chord, and Isabelle screamed. Meg ran for the lights, and lit one lone lamp over the pit. Isabelle lay sprawled on her back in the pit, a look of sheer terror on her face.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik rather liked that song he'd improvised in the auditorium back there, he'd have to remember to write it down. A well placed whisper, a flash of his eyes, and a flutter of his cape in Isabelle's face before his departure was enough to complete the game.

Isabelle's lover…He'd have to keep that one going for a while…

Upon leaving through the trapdoor, he ran into Nadir.

"Daroga!" he hissed. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," replied the Persian quietly. "Hana is waiting for your lesson."

"What? Where?"

"Down in the cellars."

In the cellars? _Oh, damn!_ Without another word, Erik darted around Nadir and down the trapdoor.

He'd completely forgotten about Hana! Of course, she had a lesson… He'd been so wrapped up in his little charade, that he forgot about her.

"Well, how was I supposed to know she'd go and wait for me right away?" he muttered.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hana was extremely cold now, especially after the Siren had tried to rub her arms to warm her, thereby dripping cold water all over her already cold skin. Finally, there came a bang from inside the house – Erik had evidently entered through the torture chamber – and the door swung open.

"Where have you been?" shouted Hana. "I've been waiting for ages!"

Erik turned a cold glare on her. "And did I ask you to come straight down here on your own, mademoiselle? I _have_ got other occupations, you know, than taking care of you every waking moment. I hope you have your music, because this rehearsal is going to be _murder_." Erik swept her into the house and shut the door without a look at the Siren floating expectantly in the water.

Well, Hana was certainly in for it now…

……………………………………….

And that's that! Well, I find this chapter rather inspired, don't you? (no answer) Well, fine, be that way. Hmph. At least review! I only had four for the last chappie! (cries)


	13. Day 10, Sunday

Whoa. It's been like…forever since I last updated. O.o I had to go back to reread my own last chapters to remind myself what was going on. Sorry. I hope people are still reading this. Anyway, I hope my original story is still tumbling around somewhere in my mind – let's see if I can find it…

Assuming that rule about not being allowed to reply to reviewers really was a hoax…

Babymene17: No, I meant musicofthenight, not Project Phantom. Though I'm in that one too. You think Erik's mean to lead her on? Well, he is the Opera Ghost, it'd be pretty sad if he wasn't mean, and she shouldn't have fancied herself the Opera Ghost's lover in the first place. Hmph.

MetaChi: The Siren wears a T-shirt and shorts? …So has she got a closet underwater or something? A whole wardrobe and stuff? Ooh, I'm going to elaborate on this…

BaffledSeraph: Why on earth did I forget about the existence of mezzo sopranos? I guess the way I worded it just sounded funnier. As for the chapter 11 review, that's my favorite part too. Oh, he does enjoy himself from time to time. Glad you got caught up.

The Four Random Ones: Unless he's really really careful. I dunno, maybe Isabelle will come back to haunt him, no pun intended.

Lazy.kender: Haha! Yay! You're back! Of course, as soon as you start reviewing, I quit updating. Ah well. I'm back now. Did I ever mention that I adore your Jingle Bells parody? Now that Christmas is near, I sing it all the time. And don't hurt the homicidal cats.

Qatherinn: Oh, my, thank you.

Elflover: Really? Cool, Glorfindel hasn't got that many fangirls. Legolas of course, though I do rather like Elladan too.

La Phantom: Okay, okay. Know that it was your review that made me want to update again.

……………………………….

Hana awoke in her room Sunday morning without any clear recollection on how she'd gotten there. All she knew was that she'd had the most rigorous lesson ever thrust upon her by the Opera Ghost. She must have stumbled to her room late in the evening without really being aware of what was happening. She had apparently skipped dinner too, because her stomach was growling something terrible.

Not very ladylike at all.

It was relatively early in the morning – she had an hour or so before rehearsal – so she decided to head out to get something to eat. She combed out her short hair quickly and changed dresses without bothering to change corsets – she'd been wearing the same dress for two days now. Yesterday was the day when she'd woken up from her nightmare which induced a cram session that left her pretty much…insane. Somehow, she felt better today, though. Maybe cram sessions were the way to go for her. She'd have to force herself into another one sometime.

Hana left her dressing room and set out for the streets of Paris. At a nearby café, she purchased two strawberry crepes and a large cup of coffee, which she sat and sipped slowly. It warmed her up, and the caffeine helped a bit too. She wondered if, at the rate she was going, she'd end up collapsing on the stage during the actual opera.

She sighed, and headed back to the Opera House. There were only five minutes left before her rehearsal, and she didn't want to be late.

Hurrying through the doors of the Opera, she ran into Isabelle, making her way out with Carlotta, swathed in a heavy fur wrap despite the summer heat, Carlotta adorned in a similar manner.

"Out of zee way," Carlotta demanded impatiently.

"Where are you going?" asked Hana, a little bewildered. "We should be on stage right now."

"What are you talking about?" said Isabelle scathingly. "It's Sunday. Whatever Lefevre said yesterday, we're off today. No rehearsal until tomorrow."

"But I wouldn't expect 'oo to know zat," said Carlotta in a snooty voice. "We're off to shop. Please don't tag along." And the two women departed, heading in the direction of the Champs Elysees.

Hana didn't much care that they'd been so rude. There was only one thing that registered in her mind.

_She had a day off._

They got days off? She could have sworn that Lefevre had mentioned a rehearsal today. He must have been mistaken. The point was, she had absolutely nothing to do.

She could…sleep.

However…if Erik came to give her a lesson…no. She'd just go back to her dressing room, lock the door, and zonk out for the rest of the day.

And she did so.

Hana lay back down on the couch in her room, snuggling under a thin blanket with a rolled up dress for an extra pillow. She sighed, tried to forget the music, and began to doze.

There was suddenly a rattling from the direction of the door.

She opened one eye and glanced at the doorknob. Was someone trying to get in? Hana simply closed her eye again and ignored it. _They'll go away._

And, whoever it was, they did.

Hana smiled happily. Then, ten minutes later, the knocking began again.

But this time it wasn't coming from the door.

Hana growled and sat up. Who was trying to disturb her so much?

There suddenly came a slight squeaking noise from behind the mirror. She whipped around in time to see a black gloved hand emerge from behind the glass, pushing the opening wider, and Erik stepped out.

Hana's heart sank. She'd forgotten about the mirror entrance. What kind of phan was she, to forget that the mirror opened?

"What are you doing?" he inquired. "You locked the door. I hear you have a day off." He stood leaning against the mirror frame, watching her.

"Yes…" she replied warily.

"Well? Let's rehearse," Erik said, moving aside to let her through the mirror.

Hana snapped.

"What do you mean, rehearse! Do you know I've only had eight hours of sleep in the past two nights? Last night I memorized half an act of a whole opera, and I've had to learn cues and blocking and all sorts of random stuff! Not to mention your deadly practices down in the cellars! Sometimes I wonder whether it was a good thing that I won that contest! Heck, sometimes I wonder if I can still consider myself a legitimate phangirl! Honestly, I love you Erik, and I want to please you, but I need to _sleep_!"

Erik weathered this barrage of complaints quite indifferently. "First of all, at least you had the option of whether to enter the contest or not. My participation was quite involuntary, I assure you. Second of all, I have survived on far less sleep at a time. And third of all, if that makes any sense, you're perfectly welcome to sleep down in the cellars after the practice with me."

"Why on earth would I want to sleep in a cellar?" railed Hana. "They're cold and wet and – "

"I mean in my house in the cellars," said Erik impatiently. "Good Lord, girl, do you really think I'd leave you to sleep in the cellar proper?"

"You left me sitting outside your door for ages yesterday, why not?" said Hana bitterly.

"That was different." Erik seized her hand and her libretto and pulled her, albeit a bit gently, through the mirror passage. This trip was much different from the last time they had traversed the passage, when Erik had taken Hana up to the roof to appease Nadir. This trip was silent, and Erik was sort of supporting Hana as she stumbled along behind him.

Down through the five cellars as quickly as possible, across the lake, and into Erik's house they went, Hana nearly nodding off in the boat. Erik brought her a cup of hot tea to stimulate her and handed her the libretto. "If you managed to memorize half an act in four hours, then I am quite impressed. Let's try to get the other half of the act in the same amount of time."

Hana sighed, chugged her tea, and complied. They worked for hours on the last of Act One, which concluded with Cinderella standing veiled before her family and the prince, everyone singing about the identity of the mysterious woman before them. It was well past noon when Erik declared that she knew half of the opera 'well enough as to not make a fool of yourself before an audience.' That was good enough for Hana.

It was well past noon, and two crepes were not a sufficient breakfast for Hana. "Do you think we could get some lunch? I really am starving." Her stomach rumbled again in agreement.

Erik stood up. "I'm afraid I haven't got a lot of options…as I don't entertain often…but I'm sure I can find something." He rummaged around in the cabinets of the little kitchen and managed to produce a passable ham sandwich and a slightly overripe apple. Hana took it gratefully and devoured it in mere minutes. "Thanks."

"Charmed." Erik took the empty plate back to the kitchen and left it in the washbasin. "If you like, I can take…" He stopped when he saw that Hana had already crashed on the couch in his sitting room, snoring pleasantly. "…you back to your dressing room." He sighed and went to get a blanket for her.

………………………………………….

Okay, I'm not too proud of this chappie, but I AM quite proud of the fact that I updated. Sorry for any little inconsistencies or mistakes in peoples pennames (Hilary, did you change your name?) I may have included by accident – like I said, I don't remember all the story exactly, and I wrote the beginning review responses months ago.


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